


The Slytherin Heart

by Farbautidottir



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1792 Triwizard Tournament, Abuse, Bagshot family (Harry Potter), Black Family (Harry Potter) - Freeform, Childhood Trauma, Elixir Of Life, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Faked Suicide, Gamp Family (Harry Potter), Gen, Good Malfoy Family (Harry Potter), Grindelwald family (Harry Potter), Heir of Slytherin, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Deathly Hallows, Triwizard Tournament, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 184,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farbautidottir/pseuds/Farbautidottir
Summary: Wilhelmina Gamp had no plans to one day become the grandmother of Gellert Grindelwald, but a Slytherin heart has a way of getting what it wants. Set against the political backdrop of revolutionary France and its wizarding backlash, the three heirs of Salazar Slytherin look to find their way in a changing world while remaining true to their hearts and keeping favor with Britain's most powerful man, Septimus Malfoy.A tale of ambition, cunning, pride, and above all love, this is the untold story of the strange events surrounding the 1792 Triwizard Tournament.





	1. A New Wand

**Author's Note:**

> This book is dedicated to the wonderful Slytherins in my common room at HRC.  
> Special thank you to my editor, Emily, without whom I'd still be stuck in the early chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am publishing weekly on Wednesdays until I complete the book and then will publish more frequently. Bookmark, comment, kudo, enjoy! :)

Wilhelmina Gamp had no plans to one day become the grandmother of one of the most terrible Dark Wizards to range the Earth. In fact, on that mild August day in 1792 at the Port of Dublin, her sixteen-year-old heart only held frustration at how unfair it was that Ilvermorny had not let her take her wand with her when she recently moved back to the British Isles because she would not turn of age until October 23.

As she withstood one last squeeze farewell from her mother, Wilhelmina’s father, Ardan Gamp, urged, “We really must go.”

At his words, Dipsas Gamp released her only living child. Their son, Ciaran, had been killed a year and a half prior. An event witnessed solely by Wilhelmina who managed to escape through illegally using magic to disapparate.

“Promise you will write me, Willa.” Dipsas pressed. Her blue eyes were commanding, a trait her daughter’s possessed as well.

“I promise again, mother.” Willa assured her. “Galanta knows the way to America and I am certain she will always find you.”

They glanced back at Galanta, the family boreal owl, caged on top of Willa’s luggage. Aunt Nerodia stood beside the luggage cart, already having said goodbye to her older sister, Dipsas. She and Uncle Castor Black, along with cousins Rigel and Elnath Black, had come to Ireland a fortnight before to visit with the Gamps and return Willa to Black Manor in England.

The International Statute of Secrecy restrictions had only become tighter after Rappaport’s Law went into effect by the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA) two years before, so while they used the Floo Network to arrive at the Gamp estate outside Dublin, they would leave with their niece via ferry, the Muggle choice of transport.

Rappaport’s Law limited interaction between magical folk and No-Majs (called Muggles in Britain and Ireland) due to a breach scandal in MACUSA nearly exposing the entire wizarding world to non-magical people. Under the law, interactions with No-Majs could only be for purposes necessary to perform daily activities. The British Ministry of Magic did not agree with the law.

As Ardan Gamp was head of the Scourer Hunter Division in MACUSA’s Agency for the Protection of Wizarding Secrecy, the Gamp family’s connections to the governing body and the law itself caused a sense of anxiety among Ardan and Dipsas. That combined with the nefarious circumstances surrounding their son’s death, it seemed most logical to send their daughter to live with relatives in the safety of England and to finish out her studies at the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The ship's mates began to release the sails and a final boarding call sounded out. Willa watched as her parents boarded, steeling herself to the emotions of it all. Yes, they were leaving her in a country she had scarcely lived, having moved to America at age eight and not returned since. Yes, she had to leave her beautiful snakewood wand behind, the rarity of its wood and its connection to Ilvermorny’s founder, Isolt Sayre, and their mutual ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, always emboldened her wand skills. But there was plenty to be excited for here in Britain, not to mention she was glad for the opportunity to put an ocean between herself and her father.

Cousin Elnath Black was her year in school and, despite the distance between them the last eight years, they had remained in contact through frequent and divulging letters. They were close like sisters, and it was Elnath’s hand that closed tight around Willa’s now. The girls looked to one another, their eyes holding the others for a long moment of understanding before Willa broke into a bright smile.

“I simply cannot wait to be sorted at Hogwarts.” She said.

“Alongside all the first years, what a laugh that will be.” Elnath said, gleeful.

“To which house do you think I will sort?” Willa pressed.

“I pray Slytherin so we can bunk together!” Elnath exclaimed. “I will have Prefect’s Quarters this year.”

“I am a Horned Serpent at Ilvermorny. Truly I would think it strange for me not to sort Slytherin.” Willa agreed.

“One last wave farewell, girls.” Aunt Nerodia called lightly to them.

They looked back to the leaving ship, bound for Boston, and both gave full armed waves to Willa’s parents with their outside arms. Their inner arms remained linked by their hands.

“Come now, the ferry departs at half past.” Uncle Castor said. “I have no desire to stay in this wretched country a moment longer than that.”

He turned on his heel sharply, his long coat tail flouncing a touch as he did, which sent the girls into giggles.

“You two better mind yourselves.” Rigel teased.

Elnath gave her older brother a scowl and he laughed before quietly casting a spell to move the luggage cart. He held onto its handles to pretend he was controlling it, so no Muggle on the quay would notice. The two female cousins hurried after Aunt Nerodia and Uncle Castor towards the ferry landing area.

* * *

Though the ferry trip was uneventful and the waves calm, Willa felt as though a weight lifted from her as they crossed into Welsh waters. A fresh start awaited her here in Britain. Soon they were to the portkey the Blacks had left at the wizard-run Holyhead Inn for safekeeping. This sent them all to the White Horse Tavern in the village of Longcot in England where they boarded their waiting Aethonan-drawn carriage to Black Manor. The wings of the aethonans were rendered invisible under a Concealment charm so they appeared mere horses to the village’s Muggles.

The stately manor, a formidable size to Muggles and even larger inside due to charms, was located a few miles from Longcot and boasted a grand view of the Uffington White Horse from its south-facing windows.

“This is your room, Miss Wilhelmina.” The Blacks’ House Elf told Willa as she opened the door for her.

“Thank you, Mirella.” Willa said, smiling at the pathetic looking creature. From Elnath’s letters, she knew that Uncle Castor treated Mirella with disdain and sometimes cruelty, but that Elnath often sneaked her treats.

At Willa’s formal gratitude, Mirella brightened and asked with a high-pitched squeak, “Is there anything else Mirella can help you with, Miss Wilhelmina?”

“No, I am satisfied.” Willa smiled again at the house elf, who now looked less pathetic.

“Very well, Mirella will leave you, miss.” Mirella said, giving a nod.

“A moment,” Willa said, remembering the extra pastry in her travel pocket. Mirella froze in place, unsure how to express herself to the newcomer, and Willa rummaged for the treat. “Here we are!” she exclaimed, spinning to face Mirella, whose eyes immediately widened with delight.

“Oh, Mirella could never take such a delicacy from Master’s niece.” Mirella said.

“I insist.” Willa forced the pastry into Mirella’s feeble hands. “But perhaps we should not mention it to anyone?”

Mirella nodded fervently, having just taken a small bite. Her ears seemed to swell with pleasure at the taste of the sweet bread.

“Mirella will keep Miss Wilhelmina’s kindness a secret.” She assured Willa.

They shared another smile and then Mirella snapped her bony fingers and disapparated.

Willa turned to the room and debated how much to unpack. She would only be there a week before going to Hogwarts. The space was a cheery corner suite, with both south-facing and west-facing windows. It was clearly one of the best situated rooms in the manor. Willa knew that only a visit from the most prestigious of guests would force her to give it up. She abandoned the daunting task of her trunk for the moment and went to the window sill to sit, looking out over the prehistoric monument in the distance.

“Hard to believe it is mere chalk.” Rigel remarked from the doorway in reference to the Uffington White Horse.

Willa jumped with alarm, not realizing he was there.

“Sorry to frighten you.” Rigel laughed easily, walking into the room. Willa did not protest, so he continued to the window and stood by her.

“Not to worry,” Willa assured him.

“You really should not bribe Mirella.” Rigel said.

“Have you come to lecture me?” Willa sighed. She did not know Rigel well, only through Elnath’s letters, which rarely mentioned him except when of consequence to her welfare.

Now Rigel sighed. This was not going as planned.

“Not at all. I wanted to check on you, make sure you were well and everything was appointed to your liking.” He said.

Willa paused a moment to examine her cousin anew. He was tall with dark features, quite opposite Elnath’s stunning blonde curls and bright blue eyes that mimicked her own. He was handsome though, and she was certain he would be the object of many eligible young ladies’ affections at Hogwarts. Perhaps, Willa decided, his interest in her wellbeing was merely familial concern and nothing more.

“Everything is to my liking, yes.” Willa replied finally.

“I am glad to hear.” He nodded.

“How old are you again? Eighteen?” Willa asked.

“I turn eighteen come December.” He explained. “This is to be my final year at Hogwarts.”

“What are your plans after?” Willa pressed though she was only slightly curious.

“I have an offer from Mr. Septimus Malfoy to apprentice him at the Ministry. It is a very generous offer.”

“Is he the Minister of Magic? I thought it was Unctuous Osbert?” Willa asked, alarmed she might be so out of touch with British politics that she did not even know the current Minister of Magic.

“It is Unctuous Osbert, yes. Septimus is his Chief Advisor and the Majority party leader. Though if you ask anyone who knows, it is Mr. Malfoy who is in charge. Unctuous is a moronic ninny.” Rigel laughed.

“Seems to be mostly ninnies in charge, truly.” Willa mumbled.

“What about your great-grandfather, the first Minister of Magic?” Rigel protested.

“No, Ulick Gamp was not a ninny.” Willa conceded. “But I am not certain I plan to go into politics if that is what you suggest.”

“Why ever not? You possess all the pertinent connections.” Rigel pressed.

“I have greater aspirations.” Willa grinned.

“Pray, tell.” Rigel said, smiling with amusement.

“Private aspirations,” She said.

In truth, she had no specific career aspirations. Given her father’s political career, she was very engaged with current affairs and found government mostly fascinating. Something inside her though kept her from wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps.

Rigel rolled his eyes. “Well do not impart that inclination on the Sorting Hat. It will not know what to do with you.”

“It will know I am Slytherin. As descendants of Salazar himself, surely all Gaunts must be.” Willa said with confidence.

“While our mothers are both Gaunts, I am afraid it does not work that way.” Rigel lamented. Willa knew he was Slytherin though.

“What about the Gaunts?” Elnath chimed from the doorway.

“Elnath!” Willa exclaimed, happy for the interjection.

“Rigel, are you boring our dear cousin to tears already? She has not been here but an hour.” Elnath asked. It was hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“No,” Rigel said. “But I suppose that is my cue to leave.”

“Are you coming with us tomorrow to Diagon Alley?” Willa asked him.

“Without question. I have N.E.W.T.s this year and will need plenty of materials. Not to mention a new set of dress robes for the Yule Ball.”

“The Yule Ball? Do you plan to participate in trials for the Triwizard Tournament?” Elnath asked her brother doubtfully.

“I have no time for that.” Rigel said impatiently.

“Then why would you need more dress robes? Beauxbatons plays host to the tournament this year.” Elnath continued.

“Well, according to Mr. Malfoy, the French Ministry received too many letters of concern from Beauxbatons parents regarding the safety of their children amidst all the Muggle violence.” Rigel said in a lowered voice. “So, there are plans to permit Hogwarts to host instead, as Durmstrang hosted the last one five years ago.”

“That is ridiculous.” Elnath said.

“You will not be trying out either!” Rigel said.

“Because I am entering for a spot at the Wizarding Schools Potions Championships!” Elnath retorted.

“I am going to try out.” Willa interjected, mostly to end their bickering.

It worked, as her cousins both spun to look at her, shocked.

“Really?” Elnath asked.

“Why not?” Willa shrugged. “Is the prize not eternal glory? I could handle that.”

“It would help with your private aspirations.” Rigel muttered.

Willa flashed them both a smile and then asked, “What exactly do trials entail?”

Elnath laughed, “Headmaster Hayward will explain it all at the Welcome Feast. Now come with me, I need to show you something.”

She led Willa down the hallway to her own room, which was gold and green in color with north-facing windows.

“Sit there.” Elnath said, pointing to a chair by the unlit fireplace.

Willa did so and Elnath closed the door then proceeded to pull out her wand. Willa looked on, shocked. Underage magic use outside of school had dire consequences in America, particularly when a wand was used since it then could be proven in court. As a result, Willa had become proficient in wandless magic.

“ _Accio_ letter.” Elnath said, doing the basic wand motions to activate the spell. She added a whispered word that Willa could not understand and another two swishes of her wand.

“A password protection?” Willa asked, impressed. It was advanced magic, though nothing she did not know herself.

“This house has no respect for privacy.” Elnath groaned. “Bear that in mind.”

“I will.” Willa nodded. “So, what is the letter?”

“Here, read it. I do not mind.”

Willa opened the parchment to discover elegant script spelling out the following message:

> My Esteemed Elnath,
> 
> I feel terrible writing this to you at all, but I feel I must. It is the pull of moral obligation that leads me to portray the details of my brother’s actions of late. I will speak plainly so my message is not misunderstood. Quintus has pledged himself to Catherine Avery this summer. I know this news must shock you, but I did not wish you to return to Hogwarts unaware of the development. Should you see to my letter, please do so discreetly so my brother does not intercept it thinking your owl has come for him.
> 
> My sincerest apologies.
> 
> Your dear friend,
> 
> Octavia Malfoy

“Sincerest apologies?” Willa was indignant. Quintus Malfoy and her cousin had been attached for more than a year. “She is lying. This is a scheme.”

“I wish I could believe that. Quintus has not called on me once this summer. Rigel never makes reference to Mr. Malfoy mentioning him or me in their communications. Not to mention we are yet to receive invitation to Malfoy Manor’s traditional end of summer ball.” Elnath said. The Blacks were usually the first family invited.

“Who is Catherine Avery?” Willa asked, though she knew the surname was of pureblood inheritance.

“Some Ravenclaw girl. She is very nice, but also quite plain. While she is pureblood and well connected, she is not Slytherin. This gives me some small hope. Mr. Malfoy is very particular about these things, as you know.” Elnath reported. Septimus Malfoy’s predisposition to Slytherins was well documented in Elnath’s letters to Willa.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Nothing at all. If he has pledged himself to her, then he shall let me know given we were attached as recently as June by all accounts. It would be quite shameful for him not to do so.”

“I agree. What if he says nothing, will you inquire?”

“I have yet to decide.” Elnath sighed. “What do you think?”

Willa shook her head, unsure what to suggest. Elnath nodded her understanding of this and then placed the incantation back on the letter to render its contents illegible once more.

“Do you fancy a stroll through the gardens? I feel restless.” Willa asked.

“I would love that.” Elnath brightened. “You can finally meet Patrick!”

Now Willa brightened. Patrick was the garden snake Elnath befriended years ago, and she often boasted of his brilliant dry wit. Willa was yet to meet him, of course, and the gardens became an even more exciting prospect.

“Rigel is a Parselmouth too, right?” Willa asked her cousin.

“Yes, and mother. Does Aunt Dipsas speak Parseltongue?” Elnath asked.

“No, only me.” Willa confirmed. “Ciaran did not either.”

Elnath only nodded. As Willa almost never mentioned her brother since his death she dared not press, and they set out for the gardens.

The day passed easily from there and Patrick did not disappoint. He had both girls rolling with laughter until the sun began to set. They accompanied the adder back to his nest before heading inside for supper.

The whole of the Black Manor was to bed early after such a long day. Wilhelmina slept soundly through the early morning until Elnath came to wake her around eight. Mirella sent up and then collected breakfast, and then Willa dressed with the help of Aunt Nerodia’s magic.

Everyone stood by the grand fireplace in the formal sitting room and took turns throwing the Floo Powder into the hearth and shouting, “Diagon Alley!” The resulting green engulfed each member until Mirella was the only living being left in Black Manor. For her part, she immediately cleaned the soot stirred up by the Floo travel so the task would not be forgotten later and punishment doled out by Master Black.

* * *

Willa’s first stop had to be to Gringotts since Dragots and other American monies were not accepted in Britain. Rigel asked if he could go straight to the robe shop for dress robes. This prompted Aunt Nerodia to require her presence for fashion advice, followed soon by Elnath offering to join at Rigel’s pleading expression. Thus Willa set off alone with her uncle for the Goblin bank.

She had not been to Diagon Alley since childhood and its chaos and energy entranced her until they entered Gringotts and she was transformed by the splendors of the counting room. Crystal chandeliers flooded rainbows of light throughout the hall and the polished marble floors and columns reminded her of the classical look of the federal-style architecture, so popular in America at the moment.

“Breathtaking, is it not?” a man said to her.

His intrusion brought Willa back to the cordial realities of society until she caught sight of him. No longer breathtaking was the room in comparison to this man. Willa knew immediately he was at bare minimum a decade her senior, but the elegance and confidence of his countenance forced a small blush to her cheeks. His long, sleek blond hair was tied back with a black satin ribbon and his robes fell smartly around his physique. Never had Willa felt this form of attraction. His light blue eyes glistened with a secret that she longed to know. Then, as if he could read her thoughts, the beautiful man produced a charming smile, a gift especially for her.

As it is with all precious things, the moment could not last and soon was dismantled by the next word from her uncle’s mouth.

“Septimus!” Uncle Castor cried as jovially as Willa thought the disagreeable man was able.

“Castor, how have you been?” Septimus Malfoy responded with a bright candor.

“Well, quite well. We went to visit with Nerodia’s family much of July in Dublin. I am happy to be returned to England.” He added. “Ah, but you will not have met my niece, Nerodia’s sister Dipsas’ child. May I present Miss Wilhelmina Gamp.”

Willa gave a slight curtsy, as was custom at formal introductions, and Septimus bowed his head.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Gamp.” He said. When they both stood erect once more he continued, “You are of relation to Ulick Gamp, are you not?”

“Yes, he was my great-grandfather.” Willa replied. She and Castor became aware that the entirety of the counting room drew quiet, the spectators’ eavesdropping no longer discreet. Neither minded the attention. People of their stature were accustomed to being watched.

“He was a fine man, I am told.” Septimus said, eloquently ignoring the engrossments of the room.

“I am told the same.” Willa replied curtly. She had never met her famous great-grandfather.

Septimus furrowed his brow for a moment so brief Willa could not be certain he had, but it caused her to wonder why he might. It was then she realized she had begun using occlumency when her great-grandfather’s name had been mentioned. A common habit for her, as the practice and consequently its opposite, legilimency, were taught at Ilvermorny starting in fourth year. This gave her pause. If Septimus were now concerned for not being able to read her thoughts, it would lend evidence to the truth he had been using legilimency on her this entire time.

“You must know my son, Quintus?” Septimus asked, attempting to draw Willa’s gaze again. Visual contact was required to initiate legilimency.

“No, Wilhelmina has only moved back this summer from America. She starts at Hogwarts next week.” Uncle Castor explained.

“Ah yes, I recall now Rigel mentioning this.” Septimus nodded and returned his piercing gaze to Willa to employ a different tactic, “Everything here must seem so refined in comparison to America.”

Willa seethed. What a narrow-minded man to presume such a thing. She wanted nothing more than to humble him, and so she allowed herself the memory of her brother and the long afternoons they practiced the art of legilimency on one another at Ilvermorny.

Once prepared, she looked directly into Septimus’ eyes and cast the silent spell to push into his mind. Though he blocked her, the affront came as a surprise. Her magic was strong, shown by the sudden clenching of Septimus’ teeth while he fought through the pain of his occlumency.

Willa smiled at his suffering and responded to his insult, “On the contrary, I fear what America might lack in refinement, it compensates for in resilience. Command of magic without use of wand is commonplace, for example, something yet to take root in the British Isles. Have you opportunity to visit the former Colonies, Mr. Malfoy?”

The crowd went from silence to murmured delight at Willa’s challenge to such an influential man. The distinct laughter of a woman rose above the murmurs. Willa could see its owner from her peripheral vision, but could not risk breaking eye contact with Septimus to get a closer look.

Septimus for his part was turning a shade of red. Willa smiled brighter and added the suggestion he ought to visit should he have the chance. “I find a fresh perspective is always insightful.” She finished and withdrew her Legilimency spell.

“I could not agree more, Miss Gamp.” Septimus said, finally recovered from her attacks. “And I would be very remiss not to extend an invitation to you alongside your uncle and his family to the end of summer ball at Malfoy Manor this Friday.”

“We would be honored to attend.” Uncle Castor said. Willa surmised this had been his goal all along. She thought of Rigel and Elnath and both their futures relying on the Malfoys and determined she ought to play into the man’s stature.

“How kind an offer.” She said in a humbled tone. “What a thrill that will be!”

“I am delighted to hear it. I will have an owl dispatched with the details.” Septimus said. He gave them both a nod and lingered on Willa a moment before turning sharp on his heel to leave the bank.

Quite unaware he had just bore witness to a magical power play, Uncle Castor began to walk toward a free Goblin at the counter. Willa followed in step, turning once to glance again at Septimus Malfoy. When she did so, she found he too had turned to glance at her and their eyes met once more, both pairs conveying a continued intrigue.

When she looked front again, she realized a woman now blocked their path. Willa connected this was the same woman who had laughed before. The woman was tall with intelligent eyes and appeared her uncle’s age. Her demeanor seemed pleasant enough.

“Excuse you.” Uncle Castor said to her, his voice back to its usual cool.

“I wanted to introduce myself, Miss Gamp.” The woman said, not moving. “I am Artemisia Lufkin. I worked with your father before he took the post at MACUSA.”

“Do not speak to my niece without introduction.” Castor growled. Artemisia remained unmoved.

“It is fine, uncle.” Willa protested. She looked to Artemisia, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Lufkin, but why do you wish to meet me?”

“I admire your spirit. I will watch your progress at Hogwarts with interest. Good day.” She said with kindness and a small nod, and left the two to their business with the Goblins.

“Who is she?” Willa inquired.

“She is nobody. She works at the Ministry, fancies herself as capable as men in the way of politics.”

Willa would later learn Artemisia was the Opposition party leader, equal in position to Septimus Malfoy. Hardly nobody.

“MACUSA has a female president.” Willa pointed out to her uncle. The Ministry of Magic had never had a female Minister of Magic.

Uncle Castor scoffed at Willa’s comment and then said harshly, “And if that wretched Emily Rappaport had half the wit of a man, your brother would still be alive.”

Willa bit her tongue, thankful they had arrived at the counter and Uncle Castor’s attention was focused on requesting access to the Gamp family vault. Her mother had warned her not to provoke him regardless of the foul things he might say or do. Though Dipsas held no ill regard for the House of Black, she was not pleased with her younger sister’s choice in husband. An opinion she frequently divulged to her daughter.

* * *

From Gringotts they went directly to Ollivander’s so Willa could purchase her new wand. As she started through the threshold, Uncle Castor did not follow.

“I am going to find the others. You will be fine?” he said. Willa could not be sure the final part was indeed a question, but she knew purchasing a wand would not require his assistance, so she nodded and he left.

As she regarded the dark and dusty wand shop, a vivid purple cushion on the windowsill appeared to be the only new thing in it. The sound of a bell rang out from a back room and an eerie silence followed. She glanced around at the stacks of thin wand boxes, towering to the ceiling, and finally heard the shuffling of footsteps approach.

“Good morning,” a man said in a soft voice. She did not deem him old, but he was not young either.

“Hello, good morning.” Willa said, his calm demeanor took her somewhat off-guard. In America, you were given a wand, rather than shopping for one. The entire experience was new to her.

“You need a new wand, I see.” The man said. “Ilvermorny, was it?”

“Yes…” Willa replied. She did not feel he used legilimency on her, but how would he know this?

“Your accent gave you away, my dear. A touch Irish, but mostly American. Here, come, let us get you measured.” He smiled to comfort Willa from her sudden realization and embarrassment of her accent. The man brought out a measuring tape from his robe. “I am Gerbold Ollivander. Please, tell me about your last wand.”

“It was snakewood, of the original tree that grew on Ilvermorny premises. The one they say grew from Salazar Slytherin’s wand buried in that spot. The core Horned Serpent horn.” Willa noted.

Gerbold nodded absently, tending to the measurements.

“Twelve and a half inches?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He nodded again and looked her in the eye quite closely. She implemented occlumency, but there was no need. Gerbold Ollivander could read witches and wizards like the footnotes of a book, finding the abnormalities without much difficulty and matching them to the corresponding wandlore attributes.

“Yes, let us just try…” he trailed off, already to a stack of wand boxes, pulling one down swiftly. He held the wand out to Willa then stated what it was, “Holly, supple flexibility with a Phoenix feather core.”

Once he stepped aside, she swished and flicked her wrist while giving the incantation, “ _Wingardium Leviosa,_ ” towards the quill by the leger on the small desk. Nothing happened.

“No, I suppose not.” Gerbold frowned and snatched the wand from her. He placed it on the purple window cushion since she was using the desk for spells and went to a different corner of the shop.

He returned with a heavier wand saying, “Oak, slightly springy with a dragon heartstring core.”

Willa repeated the charm to no results and Gerbold shook his head. He placed the wand beside the rejected holly wand and with sudden levity went to the stack beside the one he had just pulled from.

“Ivy, reasonably supple with a dragon heartstring core,” he nodded, more certain about this one.

Willa closed her eyes and focused. Perhaps she was not performing well enough for the wands? At Ilvermorny, the first wand she held seemed to choose her.

Still nothing.

“Now this is curious.” Gerbold said. “You must often use magic without a wand?”

“Yes, that is common in America.” She admitted.

“That solves the puzzle!” Gerbold was off to the back room, the doorway being a narrow slit behind a wand shelf in the shop’s back right corner.

Willa clasped her hands and sighed, aching for her snakewood wand and wondering if it would wilt in her prolonged absence.

“Here we are—fir, unyielding with unicorn mane hair.” Gerbold declared upon his return. He withheld the wand from Willa while he explained, “Very interesting to know, this unicorn refused to give its tail hair, and permitted only two hairs to be plucked from its mane. The other hair was fashioned into a wand with reed wood, slightly yielding.”

Finally he presented the fir wand to Willa. She immediately felt the familiar warmth in her hand.

“Yes,” she smiled.

Gerbold smiled too, but said, “Go on. Give it a try.”

She cast the charm again on the quill and it rose into the air with ease. She carried it over to them and Gerbold grasped it out of midair with a laugh. A thrill went through her as she seemed whole again.

“Very intriguing that it should wait for you.” Gerbold noted.

“Does its brother belong to someone already?” Willa asked.

“Yes, a young man your age. I hear he is the top scoring Chaser for Gryffindor and one of their Prefects.” Gerbold said. “Braxton Bagshot.”

Willa did not know the name.


	2. Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention last time, but I'm publishing one chapter per week until I'm done writing the book. Enjoy and feel free to leave Comments :)

After her interaction with Septimus Malfoy in Gringotts, Willa had trouble thinking of anything else. Her intrigue fully piqued, she continued to strategically pepper Elnath and Rigel with questions about the man the remainder of the week to glean as much information as possible without being overt. They obliged and she learned several key points, including that he was widowed after his wife came down with a rapid moving and rare case of Dragon Pox around the time Quintus was ten. Her death affected him so greatly that all portraits of her were removed from the house and destroyed. Willa discovered from Rigel that he had a habit a drinking a glass of mead at tea time and a preference for Ogden’s Old Firewhisky. He had graduated Hogwarts two years after Uncle Castor and Aunt Nerodia and his birthday was on July 14, which once in private Willa calculated made him thirty-six years of age. Since she turned seventeen in October, this only made him nineteen years her senior.

By the time Friday arrived, Willa felt considerably more prepared to face her host that evening, even if she remained uncertain of what outcome she wished to elicit from the meeting. She determined herself not to dwell on it any longer and threw herself into final preparations for the school year. Once confident in her preparedness for Hogwarts, her sole focus became helping Elnath determine how to approach seeing Quintus that evening. Should he be innocent of any wrongdoing and all the alarm be sheer machinations of his younger sister—a prospect Willa could not be dissuaded from without further evidence—the cousins were yet to decide upon the course of action to follow in regards to Octavia. It was chiefly this topic that occupied them while poised at Elnath’s vanity fussing over their hair in preparation for the evening.

“If Catherine Avery is there, I will not treat her with any ill will. For if they are pledged, it will be Quintus who deserves my reproach, as she may well be ignorant to any attachments we shared.” Elnath confirmed as she brushed out her cousin’s deep auburn hair.

“I agree with this sentiment.” Willa said. “And if she is there, but they do not appear to be pledged, then Quintus should be forthcoming with his excitement to see you. At which point you can inquire as to why he has not called on you all summer.”

“Yes. But what if they are secretly pledged? How should I discover this?” Elnath asked, the new thought began to fester into a slight panic.

Willa weighed this. Octavia could not be trusted in her estimation, which left only Quintus and possibly Septimus to be privy to this type of information.

“Perhaps Mr. Malfoy would divulge something, if asked in just the right manner?” Willa offered.

“Are you mad?” Elnath replied, aghast. “No, you must do no such thing. From what I overheard of my father telling my mother, you made enough of an impression on Mr. Malfoy as it stands.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Willa asked, both horrified and thrilled that her interaction with the man had not gone unnoticed.

“It means that Mr. Malfoy is a very powerful man whose favor we cannot risk falling out of. Embarrassing him in any location, let alone in the middle of Gringotts—of all places!—is absolutely unacceptable.” Elnath released. She had been holding onto these sentiments for days and they exploded out at once.

“That is not _my_ perception of how events unfolded.” Willa protested. Annoyed that her cousin had waited so long to mention such a thing, she made a mental note of Elnath’s character flaw for future reference before continuing, “In fact, it was not until after this presumed embarrassment that Mr. Malfoy even extended an invitation to the ball. How could he both hold me in contempt and extend such a gesture of generosity?”

Elnath said nothing, contemplating this new information and regretting that she had not brought it up sooner to her cousin for a recount of the story on her end.

“It is only reasonable to assume then that Mr. Malfoy holds me in no special regard, bad or good, and—after having learned of my presence at Black Manor and furthermore of my general existence—felt we would all enjoy his end of summer ball.” Willa finally concluded. She was almost convinced that she did not mind the idea that the man in question would hold her in no special regard at all.

“You must be right.” Elnath agreed. “I apologize for my assumptions otherwise.”

“Do not think on it. You have enough to think on as it is!” Willa stated.

“Yes, but still I do not wish you to inquire to Mr. Malfoy about any pledge Quintus may or may not have to Miss Avery.”

“I will not.” Willa promised. She then gave a smile and look of mischief, “Does Quintus have any friend he might tell such pertinent information to who could be reasonably pliable after sufficient amounts of firewhisky? I can be very persuasive when I want to be, exceptionally so when aided by another’s courage.”

Elnath laughed and pretended to think of a companion who might fall in the category. Truth be told, Quintus was not a trusting person and she sincerely believed—until Octavia’s letter—that he only bestowed such intimacy of faith in her.

“If I think of someone, I shall inform you immediately.” She said. “Meantime, what do you think of your hair?”

Willa straightened and scrutinized her cousin’s work, which she quickly surmised was beyond her satisfaction.

“I love it!” she exclaimed to Elnath’s delight.

“As I love mine.” Elnath replied. Willa had already done her hair before she started on hers.

There was a rap on the door and Elnath permitted entry.

Adorned in his new dress robes, Rigel poked in his head to ask how much longer they might need. He was sufficiently ill prepared for the beauty inside the room, and while he held no affections beyond familial for either his sister or cousin, he could confidently state to them that they both looked a vision. They replied their gratitude at his compliment and Elnath confirmed they were indeed ready to leave.

* * *

The receiving line set up in the front parlor of the Malfoy Manor included only Mr. Malfoy and his two children. Uncle Castor and Aunt Nerodia led the Black family’s entry into the ball, and, as last in presentation, Willa prepared to watch with scrutiny at how Quintus reacted to Elnath.

Octavia was saccharine to her cousin, the flatteries rolling off her tongue like a Babbling curse had been cast on the girl. Willa fought back an eye roll as she observed the fifteen-year-old girl whom she had grown to loathe from Elnath’s letters. Octavia had an oily complexion and was yet to grow into any form of beauty, her features still plump like a child.

After Willa’s obligatory introduction from Elnath, as she was new to British Society, Willa kept her niceties brief in hopes of overhearing her cousin’s conversation with Quintus who was next in the receiving line.

“It is so nice to see you, Elnath.” Quintus was saying.

Despite being the same year as Elnath and Willa, his features were boyish. His hair and eyes only hinted at the natural splendor of his father’s, and his frame remained too slender for its height making him appear gangly. Willa noted that should Octavia’s claims prove true, it would not be such a loss for her cousin.

“It is nice to see you as well, Quintus.” Elnath replied. “How was your summer?”

“Quite well, and yours?” he said.

Willa frowned at his response, but quickly adjusted her expression when Elnath, in an effort to hide her distraught, took the opportunity to transition into her introduction.

“My summer was most exciting. My dear cousin, Miss Wilhelmina Gamp, has moved from America to live with us. She starts at Hogwarts with us tomorrow.” Elnath said.

Willa noticed Septimus turn his attention towards them at mention of her name. She caught his eye for a moment before looking to his son. His mere presence overwhelmed her senses in the manner she both feared and looked forward to all week.

“Yes, my father mentioned having the privilege to make your cousin’s acquaintance earlier this week.” Quintus said to Elnath. He finally looked to Willa and gave a slight nod, “It is a pleasure, Miss Gamp.”

“Likewise, Quintus.” She said with a half curtsy, fighting her inclination to further reveal how much knowledge she had of him due to his attachment to her cousin in hopes of shaming him into a confession of his promise to Miss Avery. There would be other methods to verify the information.

Elnath moved forward to greet Mr. Malfoy, which left Willa to Quintus’ full attention.

“How did you spend your summer? I spent mine moving.” She said to him with a smile.

“Oh, it was a fast-moving holiday, really.” He said in a reserved tone. “I made some new acquaintances and we took a family holiday abroad to Greece.”

“Oh, any new acquaintances I should look to meet tonight?” Willa pressed, determined to discover if Catherine Avery was in attendance.

“Yes, in fact the Greengrass family might find your recent return to England of interest as they too have just returned. Mr. Greengrass was an attaché to the Russian Ministry in Saint Petersburg for the past five years.” Quintus reported.

Willa smiled and nodded at this information, which was far from what she hoped to obtain. She thanked Quintus for his hospitality then moved to the next receiver in line and her true prospect for the evening, Septimus Malfoy. His greeting did not disappoint.

“Miss Gamp, what a pleasure it is to have you in attendance.” He said. His pale blue eyes were bright as he extended his right hand to her. She placed her hand in his and he bowed himself to kiss it. His lips were soft on her skin and she inhaled deeply at their moist touch.

When Septimus stood upright again, Willa responded, “The pleasure is mine, sir.”

“I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening.” Septimus said, yet to release her hand despite that being proper protocol. Willa did not mind his lingered touch and even ventured a subtle stroke of his palm with her middle finger. He pressed his lips together at her actions and then stroked her palm in return.

Willa smiled and replied with assurance, “Thank you, it is my intention.”

“I am glad to hear it.” He said. “Please help yourself to whatever you desire while in my home.”

Quintus eyed his father at this final comment and Willa took it as a cue to curtsy and move on to the festivities themselves. She thanked Septimus briefly and went in search of her cousins.

When she found them in the drawing room, Aunt Nerodia spoke in a hushed voice to her husband, clearly very cross. Rigel made attempts to distract Elnath from the angry conversation, but Elnath wanted to hear what her parents said. Seeing this, Willa approached Rigel and asked him to join her in discovering the refreshments. He obliged and Elnath gave her a grateful smile as she walked away with Rigel.

“What was that all about?” Willa asked once they were out of earshot.

“Uncle Corvinus is here. It appears Mr. Malfoy invited him, despite knowing he is estranged from the family.” Rigel explained.

Corvinus Gaunt was the younger brother of both their mothers. According to Willa’s mother, he was not right of mind and had performed two of the three Unforgivable Curses on Muggles as part of what he called experiments. This was strictly family knowledge, however, as use of any of the curses on any human would result in being sent to Azkaban. There was no proof of his actions, only his boastful claims, so instead of reporting him, their parents determined to estrange him to protect the family’s reputation. Shortly thereafter Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt died, leaving the estrangement to be upheld by the Gaunt sisters, both of whom had already married into distinguished families. Willa always had been told that the Gamp name could not be tainted by accusations of foul play, like that of her uncle. She had never even seen the man, let alone met him.

“Why would Mr. Malfoy do such a thing?” Willa wondered.

Rigel hesitated.

“You can trust me, Rigel. You know this, right?” Willa assured him. She already knew the existence of Uncle Corvinus, so clearly she could be trusted with whatever secret her cousin kept now.

“Yes, I know. It is only…” he glanced around them and then said, “I cannot speak to it here.”

Willa poured two glasses of wine at the refreshment station and walked towards the music room where a grand piano occupied the majority of the space and a few uncomfortable chairs were arranged near the wall. The room was unoccupied and the piano covered in a thin layer of dust, as if untouched for some time. Rigel followed.

They sat and Willa handed him a glass, her eyebrow raised to inquire for the information. Rigel drank before he divulged anything.

“Before we came to Dublin, I had a meeting with Mr. Malfoy about the opportunity at the Ministry next year.” He began. “I arrived early, to confirm a good impression, and was told to wait until Mr. Malfoy finished his meeting.”

He drank more and Willa began to grow impatient, but said nothing.

“While I waited, I could overhear the conversation inside his office. I did not recognize the voice until Uncle Corvinus emerged from the office later. They were discussing something about Hogwarts. A longstanding rumor about the monster that lives within its depths. Mr. Malfoy seemed concerned, but our uncle insisted that he be permitted to speak with Elnath.”

“With Elnath?” Willa asked, surprised.

“I too was surprised to hear my sister’s name come up. Mr. Malfoy told him it was impossible for him to arrange such a meeting, but that he would be happy to impart whatever information Corvinus hoped to upon Elnath himself, citing her attachment to Quintus as proof of familiarity.” Rigel continued.

“What did my uncle say?” Willa asked.

“He refused the offer, stating he would have to do it himself.” Rigel said.

“Did Mr. Malfoy then invite him to the ball?” Willa pressed.

“No, that was the end of the discussion. Uncle Corvinus left Mr. Malfoy’s office, saw me but did not acknowledge me, and then continued to the exit.” Rigel said.

“How curious,” Willa frowned and finally drank some of the wine. It was full bodied and easy to drink, the perfect party wine. She found her thoughts praising Mr. Malfoy for his discernment in wine rather than admonishing him for permitting entry to their odd uncle.

The musicians began to warm up in the manor’s main hall.

“We should probably return for the first dance.” Willa said.

“Indeed, are we still in agreement to be partners for it?” Rigel asked. They had agreed on the carriage ride there to share the first dance if no other partner asked them.

“Of course,” Willa nodded. “On condition you discreetly point out Uncle Corvinus to me. I do not know what he looks like.”

* * *

When Willa and Rigel joined the sets, she noted that Elnath was across from Quintus. Octavia was paired with some unfortunate looking boy she later learned was Marcus Crabbe. Catherine Avery did not appear to be there. Willa could not be sure, however, as she did not know what she looked like. She decided to ask Rigel during the dance if he saw her there. She noticed Septimus at the head of the set, his gaze fixed on her until she looked his way. He gave her a polite nod and continued his duties as host.

The first dance was very social and Willa was able to easily ask Rigel about Miss Avery as well as make a few teasing remarks to Elnath about her dance partner. Rigel confirmed that none of the Avery family was present from the company he had seen thus far. Elnath later imparted that the Avery family had stayed on for an extra week at Brighton, and thus were unable to attend. Octavia was the source of this update, though, and Willa was not keen to trust it. Regardless, Quintus was dancing with Elnath, and she seemed pleased with her situation.

After the first dance, Quintus made good on his offer to introduce Willa to the Greengrass family. She and Elnath were presented to Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass and their two children, Thomas and Abigail. Thomas was Rigel’s age and had sorted Slytherin at Hogwarts before his father was sent to Saint Petersburg; however Abigail had been ten when they moved and would also need to be sorted at tomorrow’s ceremony.

The two had similar features with pale skin, chestnut hair, and soft brown eyes. Objectively they equaled in attractiveness to the Blacks and Willa, and one could easily notice the matchmaking mentalities of the two relevant mother figures.

While Willa and Abigail discussed their commonality of being sorted so late into matriculation, Rigel was brought for introduction. He subtly noted to Willa that Uncle Corvinus hovered by the grand staircase. She saw he was as attractive as his sisters, her mother and aunt, but that he moved with a strange gait, as though he had an injury. While she looked away, Rigel asked Abigail to dance. Then Thomas asked Willa for the next dance and she agreed.

Elnath excused herself and Willa watched her walk in the direction of Uncle Corvinus. Before she could follow, the next dance was announced and she was obligated to take her place across from Thomas Greengrass.

* * *

When Elnath failed to reappear after Willa’s second dance with the Greengrass boy, she took it upon herself to go in search of her. After a sweep of the formal front rooms and informal back rooms, all inquiries pointing her to another location, she gave another fruitless glance into the main dance hall and determined only the annex with the kitchens remained unsearched.

Several house elves gave Willa surprised looks when she barged into the kitchens. She made her apologies after they all declined having seen any ladies except for her and Miss Octavia Malfoy. They politely explained the full lower level was open to guests, to which she explained she had searched it in its entirety. Then the eldest looking house elf was kind enough to show her to the kitchen’s back entrance, which led directly to the manor’s back stairwell.

With an unease of intrusion, she ascended the spiral staircase. It was a winding thing made of stones worn smooth. Landscape paintings littered the stone walls around her until she rounded the first full curve and found herself face-to-face with a full-length portrait of a man of striking likeness to Septimus. Upon scrutiny she found him to have slight differences. His cheekbones were higher and his forehead wider. An ancestor, she surmised, probably his father.

“Child, are you lost?” the man in the painting asked her when her nose nearly pressed against the canvas.

She jumped upright and almost lost her balance, her hand pressed hard against the column behind her to steady herself.

“I do apologize for the fright.” He continued once she appeared to compose herself.

“I am searching for my cousin.” Willa explained.

“Is she blonde?”

“Yes.”

“You are on the correct path.” The man said.

Willa smiled her thanks and continued upwards. Once she was around the next curve, the man in the portrait, who was indeed Septimus’ late father Basilides Malfoy, left his painting to perform his single duty. Not a second later, Willa cast the Disillusionment charm on herself and became a chameleon to her surroundings.

She continued to the landing and found herself at the dark wing of a long hallway. Warm light bathed the other end, which appeared farther away than it could logically be. The floor was covered in a hard-knotted carpet with an ornate geometric design of black, green, pink, and gold, a luxurious Muggle invention that the Black Manor notably lacked. Willa stepped out into the center of the long carpet and closed her eyes to listen.

It took a full minute to adjust her senses, but soon she could hear the light whispers from behind one of the innumerable closed doors. With her eyes still shut, she began to walk towards the noise, which was in the direction of the light. Before she took three full steps, an ice cold sensation cut through her entire body. A ghost. She opened her eyes instinctively and spun around. Nothing was there.

“ _Lumos_!” she whispered as she flicked her new wand.

A soft light emerged from the tip of it, all anyone could see of her under the Disillusionment charm, had anyone been there. But no one was, not even a ghost. Instead she found three worn tapestries. Each depicted one brother’s portion of what appeared to be “The Tale of Three Brothers” from the children’s book _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. The left tapestry showed the Elder Wand, the right tapestry showed the Invisibility Cloak, and the tapestry directly in front of Willa—at the very end of the hallway—showed the Resurrection Stone. She moved towards it and reached out her free hand to touch the fabric. A cold sensation creeped slowly into the fingers of her hand and the exhale of a chilled breath could be heard from behind the tapestry.

Willa slowly traced her fingertips to the edge of the tapestry, about to pull to it aside when the hinge of a door opening creaked behind her.

“ _Nox_.” She whispered to darken her wand and turned to see who was in the hallway.

Her back was now against the wall the tapestry covered, only it was not a wall. It was a door. The sharp door handle pressed hard into her spine and she held her breath, more than aware there was a ghost on the other side of said door.

Two figures walked away from her in the warm light of the far end of the hallway. Soon she confirmed it was Elnath and Uncle Corvinus. Their voices filled the air in Parseltongue.

“You promise to protect her?” Uncle Corvinus hissed.

“Yes, in all my capacities.” Elnath confirmed.

“Do not ever leave these inheritances unattended.” Uncle Corvinus hissed.

“I could never do such a thing.” Elnath hissed in earnest. Her tone was solemn, quite the opposite of how she spoke to Patrick in the gardens.

“I trust you, my child.” He hissed.

“As you should.” Elnath hissed.

The two nodded to one another and then turned to their left and descended the far staircase. After they had disappeared from Willa’s sight, a cold hand gripped her neck and pulled her tight against the tapestry.

“Open the door, child.” A female voice said in broken speech.

Willa felt overcome with the desire to turn the door handle. Her hand moved towards it when Septimus arrived at a running pace from the same spiral staircase she had climbed earlier. He looked past her and raised his wand with haste.

“ _Stupefy_!” he cast with an angry confidence.

The red light of the curse flew narrowly past Willa’s head. The next moment the cold sensation around her neck was gone.

“Miss Gamp, come away from there.” Septimus said and reached out his free hand towards her.

She stared at him.

“Yes, I can see you.” He said, a small smile forming.

Willa strode quickly to him and he pulled her securely behind his body. She peered around his shoulder back at the tapestry, which appeared unaltered from the curse. Septimus was whispering an incantation and moving his wand in long sweeping motions. His other hand remained firmly around Willa’s midsection.

Finally he finished his magic and turned to face her.

“What are you doing up here, Miss Gamp?” he asked. His voice was measured, not harsh, and hinted at amusement.

“I was looking for my cousin. I found her a moment before… well, before you arrived.” Willa explained.

“Where is she?” he asked, looking around.

“She already went downstairs. I was… unable to follow.” Willa said and glanced at the place she had stood moments before.

Septimus nodded and threw a dark look at the tapestry-clad door.

“What is in there?” Willa asked.

“The past.” Septimus said with some distance, still looking at the door.

Willa said nothing and unwittingly moved a step closer to him. He looked down at her with this movement, but did not shy away from her new proximity.

“I should return you to the festivities.” He stated, locking his eyes with hers.

Willa felt no attempts of legilimency from him, so she returned his intense gaze without occlumency.

“Yes, I believe that would be most prudent.” she replied after a drawn out pause.

Neither moved. Nerves flooded throughout Willa as she realized he too wanted to stay there with her, alone in the darkness.

A moaning screech came from behind the tapestry and the entire wing shook. Septimus’ arm moved around Willa’s waist again, pulling her towards the warm light at the other end of the hallway. She walked in pace beside his quick strides and a heaviness she did not realize she had been experiencing lifted from her once they emerged into the light.

Septimus dropped his arm from her body, though he did not spread the distance between them. When they reached the grand stairwell, Septimus stopped. She turned to him with an inquisitive brow.

“May I have the next dance, Miss Gamp?” he asked.

Willa blushed and a giggle escaped her lips.

“Do you find my proposition amusing?”

“No, I only…” Willa said in a mixture of amusement and concern that she had offended him. Finally she composed herself and continued, “Yes, you may have the next dance.”

“Good.” He uttered, his lips forming an inviting smile. “Though I do request you remove your Disillusionment charm so I do not appear to be dancing with myself.”

Willa laughed at this and undid the charm. He turned to the stairs and held out his hand to her. She rested her hand on his for balance and they began to descend the staircase together.

Willa turned to look at the dark tapestries once more, but that wing of the hall was concealed. A stone wall stood there now, capped with a portrait of the same ancestor from the spiral staircase. Willa’s eyes widened at the portrait and he winked at her.

Every eye was on Willa and Septimus as they descended from the assumed-to-be off limits second floor. Septimus, not wishing to embarrass Willa or call either of their reputations into question, determined to place fault in Elnath, who happened to be quite close to the base of the stairs. He stated in an assured and projecting voice, “Ah, but there is your cousin now.” After depositing Willa in front of Elnath, he added, “Miss Gamp was in search of you, Miss Black.”

“Here I am.” Elnath said, unperturbed. Her lack of embarrassment surprised Willa.

“What an interesting locket.” Septimus said to her.

Elnath’s demeanor changed. She stiffened and uttered her gratitude with defensiveness. Willa did not recognize the locket. Elnath had not been wearing it when they arrived at Malfoy Manor.

Septimus nodded to both girls and then returned to the party.

“What were you doing with him?” Elnath snapped in a low voice.

“I might ask you the same about Uncle Corvinus.” Willa snapped back. She looked at the locket and added, “When did you get that?”

Elnath’s hand gripped the locket and Willa noticed she wore a ring now, too.

“And that ring?” Willa hissed, unintentionally switching to Parseltongue.

Elnath’s eyes darkened. “Speak English. You do not need to call more attention to yourself than you already have.”

“What is wrong with you?” Willa asked with genuine concern.

“With me?” Elnath gaped. “Nothing.”

Willa eyed her and then softened, “I am earnest, Elnath. You seem different.”

Elnath shifted at these words, finally smiling at her cousin and apologizing.

“I do not know what came over me. Uncle Corvinus wanted to speak to me and you know how my mother feels about him.” Elnath said.

“It is fine. I saw you with him upstairs, truth be told. You do not need to lie to me.” Willa said.

“Nor you to me.” Elnath nodded. She leaned in quickly to say, “Mr. Malfoy returns our way.”

“Oh, I promised him a dance.” Willa said, pretending to be surprised, and was impressed with the ease of her tone. She felt a jumble of nerves.

“How did that happen?” Elnath giggled.

“I felt obliged after he found me upstairs searching for you.” Willa explained. It was not a lie, but not a full truth. Elnath’s composure became more formal and Willa knew Septimus had arrived.

“Miss Gamp,” he began. She turned and he continued, “I have come to collect on my dance.”

He extended his hand to her and she took it. He led her from Elnath the short distance to the dance floor and Willa noted as she took her place in the set that the room’s eyes again were on her. She learned later that Elnath had danced the number with Thomas Greengrass and Rigel with Josephina Flint, but in the moment itself Willa took notice of nothing but Septimus.

He silently cast the Praeligo charm to dampen their conversation to sound like mere murmurs to any who attempted to listen. After letting Willa know he had done so, he began to speak to her during the dance.

“I trust you do not plan to mention what you experienced upstairs to anyone?” he said.

“Why would I tell anyone about that?” Willa asked. It had not even crossed her mind to share it.

“I admit to finding myself surprised at how alike we are, Miss Gamp.”

“How do you mean?” Willa asked, though she did not dissent from the concept.

“You are a very powerful witch, and not just for your age.” He began. “And I dare say your confidence excites me.”

Willa blushed at this and then said, “We are both powerful and confident. Are these the only ways we are alike?”

“No, no I can see we are driven by the same powerful desire.” He said. His eyes were on her, gauging her reaction.

“Oh, and what desire do we share?” she teased.

“Do you really wish me to spell it out?”

“I fear you must. For otherwise, I may not believe it.” Willa said.

Septimus continued to dance for a minute before stating, “We share the desire to absolve ourselves of the darkness within us.”

Willa looked at him sharply.

“Your brother was not killed by No-Majs, was he?” Septimus asked, lowering his voice even though no one could hear them.

Willa said nothing until she worked out the meaning behind his words.

“Your wife was not killed by Dragon Pox.” She said.

“No.” Septimus said plainly. “She was not.”

They stared at one another, both coming to decide if in fact they had finally discovered someone with whom they could be truly honest.

Finally Septimus spoke, his voice soft and earnest, “Wilhelmina, would you find it too forward of me to write you while you are at Hogwarts?”

His use of her personal name did not go unnoticed by Willa, who responded, “I dare say my cousins and your children would find it shocking, so we will have to be discreet.”

“I imagine that will not be of much difficulty to either of us.” Septimus said and offered her a sly smile.

“You are more intriguing than I first surmised, Septimus.” Willa said, returning his smile.

He laughed easily at her use of his personal name. It proved the only time he was addressed by it that evening, and he reflected later that night how he had not laughed so genuinely in years.


	3. Braxton Bagshot

Under Concealment charms, the Blacks and Wilhelmina took the aethonan-drawn carriage to Hogsmeade the next afternoon with Mirella along to help with the luggage. The sentiment behind Willa’s dance with Septimus prevailed as awe and gladness from the family that Mr. Malfoy appeared to hold her in esteem and that no offense had been taken by her brashness at Gringotts.

Her favor with Mr. Malfoy bode well for the entire Black family, something Willa recognized she could not take lightly even though she presumed her connection with Septimus was deeper than they assumed. Uncle Corvinus was never mentioned again, although Elnath still wore the mysterious locket and ring. The ring, Willa noticed, was set with a black stone bearing a curious marking of what appeared to be two mirrored triangles united by a circle in the center to form a greater equilateral triangle. She did not ask Elnath about it again, after her reaction the night prior.

Uncle Castor and Aunt Nerodia wished all three of them luck and then gave a harsh reminder of their high expectations to Rigel and Elnath. Perfect marks, no disciplinary actions, and success in all their extracurricular endeavors resounded as their minimum expectations. Rigel was Head Boy and Elnath a Slytherin Prefect that year and they both assured their parents they would not disappoint. Willa masked her shock at this parenting style. Her parents were so consumed with her father’s career that they paid far less attention to her and Ciaran’s activities. Some years Willa could almost feel their relief that the burden of their children had been lifted the moment she and Ciaran entered Ilvermorny’s gates.

After disapparating with the trunks and owls to the Caretaker’s pick-up point, Mirella returned to Uncle Castor, and it was time to part ways. Once farewells were exchanged, Rigel and Elnath ushered Willa along to the Thestral-pulled carriages that took all but the first years to Hogwarts Castle’s entrance. No students were permitted inside until five o’clock, so a hum of energy flowed in the large courtyard in front of the main entrance as old acquaintances reunited from summer holiday.

Willa felt out of place, despite the kind efforts of both Elnath and Rigel to introduce her around. Eventually she located Abigail Greengrass, whose expression bore the same discomfort she felt, and they stood together until an elder witch with tired features and an emerald green robe fastened by a purple broach approached them.

“Miss Wilhelmina Gamp and Miss Abigail Greengrass, I presume?” the witch said.

“Yes, mam” They both said with nods.

“I am Professor Ingerson and will help you through the Sorting Ceremony. If you will follow me, please.” She ushered them into the castle and continued, “Now, you will not be required to sort alongside the first years, but you will need to wait for them to finish. You see, it is a most anxious time for the youngsters, and I am confident that you both possess the patience the first years simply will not.”

“Yes, of course, Professor.” Willa said as they rounded a long corridor and found themselves in front of massive, arched double doors.

“Good, good. Now if you will,” she said, opening one of the tall doors.

The two young ladies entered the Great Hall. Its splendor outshone anything found at Ilvermorny. Thousands of candles floated above four long tables that spread out the length of the room, all covered in gold platters and bowls. No one else was there and the cavernous feeling of the Hall was nearly overwhelming. Willa looked up to try and ground herself, but found the ceiling was charmed to look like the evening sky. She instead looked to Abigail, who shared an impressed smile with her.

“Come now, to the very front.” Professor Ingerson said, her heels clacking hard and fast on the stone floor.

The girls hurried to follow and finally they reached a raised stage at the front of the room.

“Now, I will have you sit just there, you see?” Professor Ingerson pointed to a padded wooden bench on the far left side of the stage. It was only visible to half of the Hall, which they later realized was the half that the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables were not located in.

The two girls sat and Professor Ingerson nodded her thanks before adding, “Just wait there until you are called later on.”

After she was halfway back down the Great Hall towards the double doors, Abigail began to speak. The fifteen-year-old’s voice was a mile a minute as her nerves overcame her.

“How do you think they will sort us? Is there going to be a test of skill, do you think? What was it like at Ilvermorny? At Koldovstoretz they do not have houses. Everyone is just together and boarded by age. I think that is much easier, do you not agree?” she went on.

“Your brother did not explain the Sorting Ceremony to you?” Willa asked once Abigail managed to pause to breathe.

“No, did he to you?” she asked, wide-eyed.

Willa laughed and said, “No, of course not. I only met him yesterday. No, my cousins explained. They have this old hat, the Sorting Hat it is called, which the four founders of Hogwarts all imbued with magic. It is simple really. You put the hat on and then it sorts you.”

“How does it know?”

“It can see what is in your head, Rigel told me.” Willa confirmed. “Whatever that might mean.”

“Huh,” Abigail said, mulling over the new information. Out of nowhere she asked, “What does Rigel think of me? Did he say?”

“Oh, um, he did not say anything.” Willa frowned, taken off guard. Seeing Abigail’s disappointment she hastily added, “But he does not speak of things like that to me or Elnath. He is a private person.”

Abigail nodded and a buzz of deep voices entered the stage. They turned to see the faculty had come out to sit at the long table set up on the stage. The professors were joking and chatting, some held glasses of wine. Willa did not recognize any of them, but let out a small gasp as Septimus Malfoy emerged alongside a very old man with whom he was engaged in conversation.

At Willa’s gasp, Abigail whispered, “I know! Headmaster Hayward is so regal in person.”

Willa nodded, even though her utterance had not been connected to what Abigail thought. She was glad to have composed herself because a moment later, Septimus turned to look out on the still empty Great Hall and caught sight of her when doing so. He reacted with a bemused expression and gave both of the girls a wave.

“Merlin, Mr. Malfoy is waving at us.” Abigail sputtered.

Willa waved back at him with ease and said nothing. Abigail took her silence as invitation to continue speaking about Mr. Malfoy and Willa doubted immensely that Rigel would find her at all tolerable, let alone of interest.

“I daresay Mr. Malfoy is handsomer than his children, but goodness, please do not mention that to Octavia. She was so kind to me all summer especially after Catherine Avery stopped speaking to me.”

“Catherine Avery? I heard her mentioned at Malfoy Manor, but do not know much about her. Who is she? Is she close to the Malfoys?” Willa pressed. Finally the source of the information may be upon her.

“Oh, she is very close to Quintus. In fact, I caught them kissing this July after the Malfoys returned from Greece.” She said in a hushed, gossipy voice.

“Kissing? So they must be attached?” Willa asked, truly shocked. She did not understand how anyone could want to kiss Quintus Malfoy. Furthermore, if Quintus had been so easily kissing Catherine Avery, then what amount of kissing had Elnath been privy to and not sharing with her?

“Well, that is the question, is it not? He was attached to Elnath Black at end of term, but—” Abigail stopped, a look of horror washing over her otherwise pretty face once she remembered that Willa and Elnath were cousins. “Oh, I am so sorry. Please, please Wilhelmina, I beg you do not tell Elnath that you heard this from me. Octavia will be furious with me for telling you.”

“I promise.” Willa lied with an earnest smile.

A loud rumble entered the Great Hall and both girls looked to see the elder students were filing in and heading confidently to their specific tables. An assortment of ghosts accompanied them, passing through the walls with ease. The Head Boy, Rigel, and Head Girl, a brunette girl with Hufflepuff robes, led the pack of them, both coming directly to the stage’s front stairs and ascending to go greet the Headmaster.

“He is so handsome.” Abigail sighed.

“Who is so handsome?” Septimus said, having approached their bench while they were turned away.

Abigail jumped and blushed, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I did not see you arrive.”

“Not to worry, Miss Greengrass.” He said in a friendly but formal voice.

Willa smiled up at him and said, “I believe the handsome man in question is my cousin, the Head Boy and your future protégé, Mr. Rigel Black.”

Septimus turned to look at Rigel, who shook Headmaster Hayward’s hand, and then looked back at Willa and Abigail, “Yes, I suppose he would be considered a handsome young man.”

Abigail let out another wistful sigh, and Septimus and Willa shared a private look of judgment towards Abigail’s lack of self-control, forcing Willa to stifle a laugh.

“My apologies, but I came over here to see if you would mind if I sat with you?” Septimus said. “You see, the faculty table is full, and since I will only be here to announce the Triwizard Tournament, I do not really need place there anyway.”

“Not at all,” Willa said and looked at Abigail, who was still enthralled by Rigel. “Abigail, can you move down some please?”

She obliged and Willa moved over enough for Septimus to slide next to her on the bench. He spread his legs some, causing his knee to touch hers. Neither of them adjusted their positions.

“I did not think you would be here.” Willa said to him.

“No, I was not scheduled to come. The Minister was to come, but the Muggle situation in Paris demanded his presence at the French Ministry. It seems the Prussian army has captured Verdun and is marching on Paris, but it is all in the wind for now.” Septimus explained, hopeful Willa would be able to keep up. He added somewhat darkly, “I fear I am required there immediately after this.”

“Does the French Ministry intend to interfere?” Willa asked.

“A fine question, Miss Gamp, and one to which I intend to procure an answer.” Septimus said, pleased at her level of interest. His own children could not be bothered to care for much beyond their own juvenile interests.

“I hope they do. If MACUSA had chosen to interfere in America, far less No-Majs would have died.” Willa said. Her thoughts threatened to migrate towards Ciaran, but she controlled them before they could.

“It is a complicated situation. I fear the British Ministry will have little input on the decision.” Septimus said. Willa could not read his opinion on the matter from his tone.

“Yet the tournament will still be held at Beauxbatons?” she asked, then answered her own question, “I suppose the Pyrenees are rather far from Paris. Not to mention hidden from Muggles.”

Before Septimus could respond, the Great Hall fell quiet as the double doors swung open. Led by Professor Ingerson the tiny first years entered single-filed and positively terrified. They were brought right to the front and Willa found herself smiling at them sympathetically. Ilvermorny’s sorting ceremony was far less intense and happened much faster without all this buildup.

Professor Ingerson placed the Sorting Hat on a stool that stood in the front center of the stage. After a moment the hat began to twitch and finally it sprung to life. A rip near its brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing.

As the Sorting Hat launched into song, Mr. Malfoy gave a small groan, mumbling for only Willa to hear, “This again. I hoped they would rid the song from this process by now.”

Willa clucked her tongue at him and said in a low voice, “Music is the great equalizer. To mock it is to mock the human condition.”

“Is that so, Miss Gamp?” he asked quietly with a raised brow.

“Furthermore, to lack appreciation for music is to lack appreciation for beauty.” Willa continued.

“Now you mock me, Miss Gamp.” Septimus said with amusement.

“No sir, I only mean to say that the adherence to precision and measured symmetry is universally found in both. Would you not agree a symmetrical face is more beautiful than an asymmetrical one?” Willa asked. She turned her head so he would be forced to take in her face when making his response.

He did just that, his eyes scrutinizing every angle of her face, glad for the excuse to further memorize her beauty so he could recall it once they had parted. She took advantage as well, noting the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose, specks of yellow in his otherwise pale blue irises, two soft creases in his forehead, and exact fullness of his lips.

Finally Septimus replied to her question.

“Yes, I would agree. Asymmetry is a bit cacophonous, as _you_ might say.” He broke their eye contact to look back at the Sorting Hat, belting forth its song from its stool. “Still though, I cannot see the true beauty in such a simple sing song as this.”

“That surprises me given you are a politician, paid to spin stories like the bards of yore until all the world seems vividly good or bad to your audience.” Willa said dramatically.

Septimus fought a laugh, which would have been loud and inappropriate in the setting, and whispered to her, “Do not tell me you subscribe to the Romantics?”

Willa smiled and said, “That you know of the Muggle movement brings me some joy.”

“I know of many things.” Septimus countered.

“This I do not doubt.” Willa said. The Sorting Hat’s song finished and she added through the sudden burst of applause from the Great Hall, “It seems your pain has come to an end.”

She and Septimus clapped alongside the rest of the Hall, and Abigail Greengrass became more nervous looking than before.

“What if I am not in Slytherin?” she said, barely audible.

“It does not matter into which house you sort, Miss Greengrass. It is who you are that matters.” Septimus said to her. Willa glanced at him, but he was looking paternally at Abigail who was nodding in an attempt to calm herself.

Professor Ingerson unrolled a long parchment and began to read from it.

“Avery, Charlotte.” She called. The youngest sister of the now infamous Catherine Avery walked calmly to the stool and put on the Sorting Hat.

“SLYTHERIN!” The Hat proclaimed.

The Slytherin table cheered and a girl at the Ravenclaw table could be heard clapping as well. Willa assumed this was Catherine. She was quite plain, as Elnath had first stated.

“Bennett, Mary.” Professor Ingerson continued.

A peculiar looking girl with dark hair and ghostly white skin approached the stool. She looked wholly out of place and Willa assumed she must be Muggle-born.

“RAVENCLAW!” the hat yelled after a moment on her head.

Professor Ingerson continued alphabetically down the list, and to their surprise, “Greengrass, Abigail” happened to be wedged in with the ‘G’ names. Abigail gasped and Willa helped pull her to her feet.

“Good luck!” she said to the pretty, but obnoxious girl.

A murmur went up from the crowd, seeing as she was both very attractive and clearly not a first year. Abigail pulled on the hat and waited. Her wish was granted as it shouted, “SLYTHERIN!” and she visibly relaxed as she hurried to join Octavia Malfoy at the Slytherin table.

“Seeing that Gamp comes before Greengrass, it seems you are stuck here with me.” Septimus said to Willa.

“There are worse places to be stuck.” Willa replied coolly. Both of them gave a sly smile, though not to each other.

After a moment Willa noticed a very handsome young man with a mess of sandy blond curls and broad shoulders sat at the Gryffindor table glaring at them, or rather, at Septimus. She leaned in to ask quietly, “Who is that boy staring right at you with the Killing Curse on the tip of his tongue?”

Septimus followed her gaze to find the Gryffindor in question.

“Ah yes, Braxton Bagshot. It appears he still blames me for his mother being sent to Azkaban this past spring.” Septimus said without much emotion.

“What happened?” Willa pressed.

“It is an unpleasant story.” He said.

“I see.” Willa said. “Someone died, then?”

“Yes, a girl. Braxton’s sister, Bethany. She was a squib.” Septimus said.

“That is horrible.” Willa said, looking again at Braxton.

“It was.” Septimus said. A finality in his voice guided Willa not to ask any further questions.

The pair sat in silence for some time, Braxton’s glare still upon them. Willa wished she could reach out to touch Septimus and comfort him; he clearly was upset by Braxton’s presence. The publicity of their position, however, restricted her from any action of the sort, not to mention she questioned how Septimus would receive such behavior.

Thus far he appeared to find her amusing and hold a fondness for her, but would a comforting touch be too intimate, too earnest—she did not know. What she did know was that she tended to develop fast sympathies for people, and that Septimus would not be the first powerful man to flirt with her. Her father was very well-connected in America and Willa, alongside her mother and brother, had entertained a plethora of diplomats over the years.

“You seem worried.” Septimus said now, bringing Willa quickly to the present moment.

“No, I was… lost in thought.” She said.

“Thoughts of what?”

“Of you, if you must know.” She said with a wry smile.

“Should I be concerned?” he asked, amused with her directness.

“I really could not say.” She shrugged.

Septimus was unsure how to react, so instead he turned his attention to Professor Ingerson who had just called out “Yeats, Grover.” He said to Willa, “I think you are to be called soon. I need something from you before you go.”

Willa glanced at him questioningly.

“A strand of your hair.” He answered.

“You had better not be brewing Polyjuice potion, sir.” She teased.

Septimus laughed lightly, “No, definitely not. I realize it is an odd request, but I will use it to enchant my letters so they may only be deciphered at your touch alone.”

A thrill went through her at his mention of the letters and she pulled a strand of hair casually from her head then put her hand on her thigh. She looked forward, at young Grover Yeats still being sorted, while Septimus took the strand from her so stealthily she almost did not feel his touch. Almost. She looked at him again.

He met her eyes and said, “I will be signing as Percival, so you know. Invent whatever story you wish.”

“Why that name?” she asked with amusement.

“It will be easier to show you than to tell you. Hopefully someday we will have that opportunity.” He said, his eyes lighting up a bit with mischief. Willa breathed in deeply to calm the flutter of nerves his expression gave her.

“Be safe in France.” She said, almost in a whisper.

“Thank you.” He said, softly as well.

Both their demeanors shifted to formality when Professor Ingerson called, “Gamp, Wilhelmina.”

“Good luck, Miss Gamp.” Septimus said to Willa with a polite nod as she stood.

She forced herself to look away from him and walk across the stage to the stool. The Sorting Hat was bigger up close and she wondered if it would fall over her eyes like it did with all the first years. She put it on, and it indeed was too large for any normal sized head. Perhaps a half-giant would fill it out, she mused.

Just as Elnath and Rigel had explained, the hat began to talk into her ear, or directly into her head, she was not certain.

“Another Gaunt, both Parselmouth and heir to the founder Salazar Slytherin himself,” the hat began. “It would seem obvious where to put you, and yet, I see much more inside. Your courage is unfailing, steadfast. It has carried you through the toughest of times. You possess a lion’s heart and would make a powerful Gryffindor. Then there is your passion for learning. Your breadth of talents and depth of skill called you to the Horned Serpent and so too for the eagle of Ravenclaw. A compassion deep within you and a desire to welcome those whom others might shun claim you for Hufflepuff. Yet, you wonder your greater purpose and lack a clear sense of ambition. Hardly a Slytherin in these traits. I see you are lost. Where to put you? Puzzling indeed. I have not had a mind so difficult to discern since my last hat stall.”

“Just put me in Slytherin. That is where all my friends are. It is where I belong.” Willa thought to the hat.

“Yes, now I see your cunning side, more clear than before. Your innate sense of command and desire for power. You could make a great leader, you know. If that is really what you desire, then I shall set you on your path.” The hat said before shouting to the Great Hall, “SLYTHERIN!”

Willa smiled and took off the hat. She descended the stage down to the cheering Slytherin table, throwing a final, fleeting glance towards Septimus, who clapped politely. As she found Elnath at the long table, the Sorting Hat’s words lingered in her head. _You are lost._

“Merlin, you had me worried!” Elnath cried, moving over so Willa could sit beside her.

“ _You_ were worried? The stupid hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor! I had to convince it otherwise.” Willa said.

Elnath laughed and then gave her cousin a small squeeze. “Only a true Slytherin could talk the hat into a decision.”

Willa smiled and nodded before looking at the Gryffindor table. She wondered how they would have reacted to her. The Bagshot boy was now staring at her instead of Septimus. His expression was softer though, more curious than murderous.

She leaned to Elnath to ask, “That Gryffindor boy, the one staring at me, do you know him?”

“Braxton Bagshot? I could never forget him.” Elnath rolled her eyes. “He sorted right before me first year. He was the last hat stall, and the first one in decades. It went on for twenty minutes! Imagine my nerves.”

“He was the last hat stall?” Willa confirmed.

“Yes, why?” Elnath asked.

“No reason,” Willa said. “What is he like?”

“Insufferable.” Elnath said. “He is the most popular boy in school, but I cannot see why. He is so boring and far less handsome than all the girls squabble on about.”

“Sounds like you are rather fond of him.” Willa teased. Though from where she sat, Braxton was easily the most handsome student in the room. Not the most handsome man though.

Elnath was about to protest her fondness, but saw Willa’s sarcastic smile and fell into laughter instead.

“Shh!” a group of girls cried from the Hufflepuff table. They motioned with their heads towards the front of the Great Hall, and Elnath and Willa saw Headmaster Hayward approached the podium.

“Greetings and welcome to all students, old and new alike!” Headmaster Hayward began, his voice as aged sounding as his crinkled face. “This is an exciting year for us at Hogwarts as many of you will know. But before we delve into that, a few announcements. I am pleased to introduce our new Gamekeeper and Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, recent Hogwarts graduate and former Hufflepuff, Mr. Grogan Stump.”

An attractive man in his young twenties stood from the table and flashed a winning smile to the room. Several wispy moans went up involuntarily from the female students, especially those in Hufflepuff, and inclusive of one from Elnath. Willa shot her cousin an amused look and Elnath simply scowled at her. Willa laughed and clapped alongside the rest of the student body while Professor Stump gave a slight bow to each of the four tables.

“Also, first years should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds. Our Caretaker, Mr. Norris, has asked that I remind you all that the area above the Great Hall is off limits while construction of the new lavatories is finalized.” Headmaster Hayward said in a bored voice. He paused a moment and then leaned in, the candles throughout the Hall dimming as he did except for those directly beside his head, causing his face to illuminate. “Now, for the news you have all been waiting for, the Fifty-Sixth Wizarding Schools Potions Championship.”

A rumbling of disinterest sounded throughout the Hall, much to Headmaster Hayward’s amusement, but Elnath straightened her posture and took a deep breath.

“Those who are interested in participating must submit entry by the twentieth of September through Professor Hipworth. A finalist will be chosen in the spring to attend the competition for Hogwarts. Top marks will be required, so do not express interest unless truly committed.” The Headmaster said. He let go a wide smile before adding, “I am pleased to share that the winner of the Championship this year will earn a place at the Egyptian Centre for Alchemical Studies upon their graduation.”

Elnath gripped Willa’s forearm so hard she wondered if there would be a bruise.

“Merlin! What a prize!” Elnath breathed. “I have to win. That would be incredible.”

Willa smiled at her and the Headmaster continued, the candles returning to their normal light as he did.

“With this concept of international cooperation in mind, I am happy to introduce the representative from the Ministry, Mr. Septimus Malfoy, to present the details of this year’s Triwizard Tournament to you.” Headmaster Hayward said, turning to Septimus, who stood and walked toward the podium.

“Thank you, Headmaster Hayward.” Septimus said in a voice so formal it was almost foreign to Willa. He smiled at the Hall and she reminded herself to enjoy the opportunity to stare at him without fear of judgment. Septimus continued his prepared speech, “As you all know, the Triwizard Tournament takes place this year. The Ministry is proud to support Hogwarts in your endeavors at achieving another victory and the reward of eternal glory. Per the traditional rotation, Beauxbatons will host the tournament this year.”

Willa looked at Rigel, who shrugged and shook his head.

“Therefore Hogwarts will play host to a qualifier’s tournament. It will consist of a dueling competition, resulting in the top four contenders earning the opportunity to travel to Beauxbatons to place their name in the Goblet of the Fire.” Septimus continued. “Each of the four Hogwarts finalists will be permitted a companion of choice to accompany them for moral support. Due to the longevity of the tournament, all participants and their companions will matriculate at Beauxbatons for the year and therefore fluency in French is a requirement. Otherwise no restrictions apply to enter. The trial duels will commence two weeks after term begins. The Ministry wishes all eligible witches and wizards the best of luck.”

Septimus nodded to all four tables when he finished and then turned to leave. Willa watched him exit the stage and he glanced at the Slytherin table, as if to locate her, right before disappearing into the chamber beside the stage. Once he was gone, Willa immediately wondered when she would see him again. She closed her eyes and pictured his face, the close-up version from that evening, its flaws and triumphs featured together in her recollection.

Headmaster Hayward provided final details on how to participate in the trials and then proclaimed the feast to begin. At the clap of his hands, food filled the gold plates and bowls, much to the first years’ delight, and Willa wondered how many house elves worked in the castle. At Ilvermorny, the students took shifts preparing meals and cleaning up after. The reliance on house elves in Great Britain proved to be the hardest adjustment for her so far. Her mother had even warned her about it, but there had been no way to prepare for it.

* * *

As the feast came to a close, Braxton Bagshot and two Gryffindor boys flanking him approached the Slytherin table, specifically close to where Quintus sat, which was in proximity to Elnath and Willa. Elnath hastily noted to Willa that the other two Gryffindors were sixth years Arlo Potter and Clement Prince.

“Will your daddy be judging the trials, or will they actually be fair?” Braxton threw at Quintus.

Without hesitation, Quintus replied, “As was the case with your mother’s trial, Bagshot, the Triwizard Tournament trials will be fair.”

“Do not speak of my mother, you cosseted swine.” Braxton spat at Quintus.

Several Slytherins stood, prepared to defend Quintus until Rigel approached the scene.

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Bagshot, do you not both have Prefect duties to attend to?” Rigel said, projecting a sense of collected prominence that Willa had not noticed in him before.

“Yes, in fact, I do.” Quintus said then spun to Elnath, “Time to go.”

Elnath stood and then looked at Willa, realizing she was sort of a first year in this moment.

“Just…follow Rigel.” Elnath murmured to her with a nod.

“Sure, yes.” Willa said, nodding as well. It was then she remembered that she needed to tell Elnath about Quintus kissing Catherine Avery in July. She sighed as Elnath hurried after Quintus towards the first years.

After a moment, she felt she was being watched. She looked to find Braxton and his goons were still there, their energy now focused on her.

“You appeared quite familiar with Mr. Malfoy, what was it, Wilhelmina?” Braxton said to her.

Willa smiled sweetly and replied, “Yes, Wilhelmina Gamp, the great-granddaughter of Ulick Gamp. Perhaps you have heard of him? And yes, the Malfoys are family friends.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, unable to place her accent, which was not as Irish as her surname and lineage would suggest.

“Dublin. Boston. New Orleans. Baltimore.” Willa listed, leaving off Ohio. “And you, Braxton, was it? Where in England are you from?”

“I live in Godric’s Hollow, but I doubt you would know it.” He said.

“You would do well not to doubt anything in regards to me.” Willa cautioned, though she did not know of Godric’s Hollow. She continued unfazed and with an easy smile, “If I recall correctly, you need to lead your poor first years to their dormitories. So, I believe it would be prudent for you, Mr. Prince, and Mr. Potter to be on your ways. I am certain we will have other opportunities this year to learn more about one another.”

Braxton fixed her with a rude stare for a long moment and then gripped his two friends and forced them to leave alongside him.

“Oh, and Braxton,” Willa called once he was several paces away. The boy turned, all of Gryffindor and Slytherin watching, along with the nearby Hufflepuffs who had been unable to ignore the exchange. Willa continued in fully genuine voice, “I was saddened to hear about your sister. My brother was killed last year, and I understand what that is like.”

Braxton turned beet red, shocked and embarrassed. Finally he managed to say, “I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

Willa gave him a nod of gratitude and watched as he turned and walked away. With the cheers of the Slytherins in her ears, she wanted to feel victorious. But Braxton’s demeanor betrayed how grieved he still was, and she felt a great deal of compassion for him.


	4. Welcome to the Dungeon

Rigel stayed after to discuss Head Boy duties in further detail with Professor Ingerson, so Willa found herself following Octavia down to the dungeon from the Great Hall. They were accompanied by the Greengrasses and Octavia's friend, Josephina Flint, whom Willa had met at Septimus' ball. It was a labyrinth of damp corridors until finally they arrived at the dungeon door. At least it was what Willa assumed was the dungeon door, imposing and carved with wrought iron snakes wrapping around one another to form an interlocking cross pattern. There was no lock and no handle. Willa noticed that no one had stopped walking.

"Is this not the entrance?" Willa asked to the group who continued down the hall.

"There is nothing there." Thomas Greengrass noted, scanning the area with confusion.

"Nobody can see this massive iron door?" Willa asked.

"You are ever so amusing, Wilhelmina. It is no wonder my father has taken you on." Octavia cooed. "Now, come on, the entrance is behind this wall. Hurry up."

Willa wondered precisely what Octavia meant with her comment, but quickened her pace to catch up with them. She fell into step with Thomas, who leaned down to ask, "You were making a joke, right?"

Willa smiled and nodded, "Of course." She would have to ask Elnath later about the door. Instead she said to Octavia, "Mr. Malfoy has taken me on? What do you mean?"

"You know, as his next protégé. I would not be surprised if he dismissed your cousin, Rigel, in preference of you." Octavia shrugged as if Septimus treating people as objects was a given. She continued, "You are directly related to the first Minister of Magic after all. Not to mention the rivalry with your father. It would be such a conquest for my father to lay political claim to Ardan Gamp's own child."

"Rivalry?" Willa laughed. "You are mistaken. My father has no qualms with Mr. Malfoy."

Octavia pursed her lips smugly, "If that is what he told you, then you should believe your father."

Willa refrained from response. She could clarify this with her mother in the letter she would need to write her tomorrow with updates. Her parents would be still be at sea, but Galanta would find them. As for Septimus' interest in her, she did not think it was political in nature, but it was better for Octavia to believe that above any alternative.

Willa almost let out her own smug smile when she realized that she could clarify all of this in a letter to Septimus himself. Not that she would be so blunt with him, but she had the direct access to him to do so. She thought that she might even encourage him to clarify with Rigel there was no threat to his apprenticeship next summer. Though it was equally likely Octavia would drop all this codswallop in a week's time and it would be of no consequence.

They arrived moments later at a false wall, which Octavia led the way around. On the other side was a wooden door.

"Mudblood." She said to the door.

Willa winced at the slur. Her mother had also warned that blood status was of much importance in Britain as compared with America. Until then though, no one had used such a filthy pejorative.

The door swung open and Willa realized she would have to say the undignified word herself simply to access the common room. What kind of impression was this for the first years? She wondered, appalled.

They followed Octavia inside, but Elnath stopped Willa and Abigail from passing through the entry vestibule into the common room.

"You two must first follow me." Elnath said. Her voice held no humor.

Abigail and Willa followed her to a small area where the group of twelve nervous looking first years stood awkwardly. Quintus was before the group next to a stone wall. When Elnath arrived with the pair, he pulled out his wand and moved in front of a specific brick.

Quintus tapped the stone brick three times with his wand and the front of it crumbled, revealing the crest of Slytherin etched into the stone. He looked to Elnath who nodded and pulled from her robes a black cloth encasing a small dagger with an exquisite pearlescent handle. Quintus held out his left hand to her and she sliced his palm. She wiped the blade clean and then cut her palm as well. Together they pressed their palms against the crest.

After a moment the scraping of stone could be heard as the bricks moved to reveal an entryway to a secret room. Elnath and Quintus blocked the entrance and turned to face the group of new Slytherins with grave faces.

"Those who seek greatness, enter at will." Elnath said, her voice ominous.

"Wary though be those who lack fidelity." Quintus added, equally somber.

Willa avoided any eye contact with Abigail so she would not fall into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. What she did not realize was that Abigail was taking it as seriously as the first years. All of whom started to enter the chamber. When it was Willa's turn to pass through the threshold, she gave Elnath a little smirk, but her cousin ignored her entirely. Apparently whatever happened in this room was serious business.

The room itself was circular, like the base of a turret. The section of the stones across from the entrance had narrow windows cut into it. She saw that the rest of the common room was beyond these windows, and every Slytherin was watching them.

In the center of the room was a simple, circular fountain that appeared to be gushing blood. An inscription on the base of the fountain read: _Et aquam in sanguinem, tenetur ad animam_ _._ The water in the blood is bound to the soul.

Willa heard the stones move again and looked to see the entryway was shut, enclosing them inside the chamber. The first years had naturally formed a semicircle around the fountain, two layers deep to account for all twelve of them. Willa and Abigail stood behind them against where the entrance had been moments before.

Elnath and Quintus stood separate from the group, their backs to the windows, and the fountain centered between them. Willa wondered briefly if they had rehearsed this. Her Horned Serpent house at Ilvermorny had nothing similar to this on the first night. Only a congratulations and welcome speech followed by a mixer of sorts where everyone discussed what they would be studying that year.

"You stand here before us as pledges to the great and noble House of Slytherin." Quintus began. "But you will not prove yourselves as loyal until the end of this night."

"Before you is the Fountain of Purity. It contains the blood of every Slytherin who came before you. It flows eternal, as the House of Slytherin does." Elnath said.

"Tonight you will pledge yourself to this great house." Quintus said.

"In water." Elnath said.

"In blood." Quintus said.

"In life." They said together.

There was a long moment when the two stared out at the group, their eyes intense, relentless, as if to challenge each person's loyalty.

Finally Quintus called forth the alphabetical first year of the group, "Charlotte Avery!"

The small girl approached him, her jet-black ringlets bouncing ever so slightly, and he glared at her, unwelcoming.

"Point your wand at the fountain." He said.

She pulled out her wand and her hand shakily did as he asked.

"Now, with conviction, cast the spell aguamente." He said.

Charlotte took a deep breath and then said with force and clarity, " _Aguamente_!"

A stream of water flowed from her wand into the fountain.

"Now pledge 'e _t aqua'_." Quintus said.

" _Et aqua_." Charlotte said, the water now only a trickle from her wand.

Elnath approached the girl then, dagger in hand. Charlotte's eyes widened and then returned to normal size as she processed what was about to happen.

"Hold out your hand." Elnath commanded.

Charlotte did as asked, and Elnath lightly sliced her palm. Willa watched Charlotte grimace through it and try to put on a brave face.

"Drop your blood into the fountain and pledge 'c _um sanguine'_." Elnath said.

Charlotte followed the orders, several drops joining the red liquid as she said, " _Cum sanguine_."

"Now, stand before your brothers and sisters and raise your wounded hand." Elnath said, leading Charlotte behind the fountain and directly in front of the windows.

"Pledge ' _ad vitam'._ " Quintus said to Charlotte.

Charlotte raised her bleeding hand and said, " _Ad vitam_."

" _Vitae_!" the crowd of Slytherins called from the other side of the windows. They all held out their wands and cast, " _Vulnera Sanentur_!"

Charlotte's wound healed instantly. Elnath pulled her away from the windows and back to her previous spot. She gave her a dittany leaf and said, "Eat this."

Once Charlotte had swallowed the plant, her face betraying it was rather bitter, Elnath and Quintus were joined by the rest of the Slytherins in saying, "Charlotte Avery, welcome to the dungeon."

Quintus called "Mildred Crabbe!" and the process followed the same, with less direction required by the Prefects at each new member.

When it was Willa's turn, she shared a look with her cousin just before Elnath cut her palm. She felt closer to her than ever before, as if they now shared another bond of blood. When she held her hand over the fountain, she thought how Septimus' blood was inside this flow of liquid, her red drops of blood joining his from years before. The idea that her parents' blood flowed in it as well did not cross Willa's mind.

When she held her hand up to be healed, she could see the faces better. Rigel, Octavia, Thomas. All of them cast the healing charm with conviction and duty. The dittany was bitter, but it caused the wound on her hand to disappear completely. No scarring even probable.

Graham Goyle was next, then Abigail Greengrass.

The process went on until finally Reginald Yaxley was called. Once the ugly boy was finished, Willa heard the stones move to open the exit.

"Abigail Greengrass and Wilhelmina Gamp, please follow Josephina." Elnath said then added in a cold voice, "Everyone else must stay here. You are yet to be tested on your skills."

Willa and Abigail left the room quickly, finding Josephina Flint just outside the door. Her face was commanding and harsh, and she led the pair out to the common room where the crowd still looked in on the hidden room through its windows.

"Watch." Josephina said. "Then we will finish your initiations."

Willa wondered how the Fountain of Purity did not constitute the entirety of initiation, but watched as commanded. Quintus was walking through the remaining group of eleven year olds, his hands behind his back to garner authority. Elnath stood stagnant at the front of the room, hardly paying attention to the group.

Finally Elnath spoke.

"Everyone find a partner. Choose wisely, but quickly." She cautioned.

The children did so, uncomfortably looking to one another as if to determine a level of trust that Willa knew could only be developed over time.

"Now one member of each partnership shall raise their wand, point it at the other member and produce the spell conjunctiva caecum." Elnath said.

Willa gasped. Elnath had just instructed use of the Conjunctivitis curse on first years, by first years. She felt the warmth of a body move beside hers and looked to see it was Rigel. He leaned closer to whisper in Parseltongue, "It is only the hazing ritual. We have already brewed the Oculus potion." His breath smelled of Ogden's.

"Watch what happens." Josephina said to her and Abigail.

The first years looked at Quintus and Elnath, confused. Were they really supposed to know this spell already? Finally, Mildred Crabbe, who had not pulled her wand first, snarled at her partner, Reginald Yaxley, "If you are too scared to do it, I will."

The other first years waited, nervous. All except Charlotte Avery.

"That curse will blind him, you know." She said.

Reginald gaped at Mildred with shock, "You want to blind me?"

"I want to prove myself a loyal Slytherin, as should you." Mildred said, haughtily.

"I shall blind you first, stupid girl!" Reginald cried.

Both kids pointed their wands at each other, their eyes flashing with anger. Willa waited with bated breath along with everyone else in the common room, but neither first year would make the first move. Suddenly Charlotte took command by casting, " _Expelliarmus_!" at both Mildred and Reginald.

"Listen," the youngest Avery said once the two glared at her, "This is a test. Would a true Slytherin curse their own? Only in a proper duel. Certainly not at the behest of someone else."

"You are just scared." Mildred said.

"No, she is right." Graham Goyle said.

Others agreed. Eventually the wandless Mildred was the only person who still thought they needed to curse each other.

"There is one every year." Josephina said, then added to Abigail. "Our year it was Octavia."

Rigel said to Willa with an amused smile, "Your year it was Elnath."

Willa smiled at this. Elnath definitely would believe she must follow the rules with precision.

"What about your year, Rigel?" Abigail asked him, her voice slightly deeper than usual as though she was trying to sound older.

Rigel smiled loosely and looked between Abigail and Willa, giving the latter a quick wink as he took a swig from his bottle of firewhisky.

"I think it is time for you both to go with Josephina." He said.

"This way." Josephina said, her voice cool.

Abigail followed, but when Willa turned to go, Rigel's hand brushed against the top of her hip. It was an intimate spot and she fixed him with a reproachful look.

"You will see." He said softly before switching to Parseltongue, "Once you return, we can discuss the iron door."

Willa's expression became intrigued instead of disapproving.

"Go with Josephina." Rigel said and nodded her in the right direction.

Willa turned and caught up to Abigail and Josephina, who were at a small alcove in the very back of the common room, near the large window that faced the Great Lake. The lake emitted a translucent green light, allowing them to see into its depths for about twenty feet. Willa was temporarily entranced by it until Josephina barked, "Who is first?"

Willa looked to Abigail who shook her head. Neither knew what they would be first for, but Willa stepped forward.

"In here." Josephina said and walked into the alcove.

Willa followed her inside and Josephina closed a curtain that was not visible from the outside of the alcove due to a Concealment charm. The space was cozy, barely fitting the chaise and a table set up with what appeared to be ink and a set of needles.

"What is that for?" Willa asked.

"The final stage of initiation." Josephina readied a needle, not looking at Willa as she spoke. "All fourth years go through it, so naturally you and Abigail need to be brought into it. I finished the actual fourth years during the Fountain of Purity ceremony."

Willa said nothing and Josephina turned to her, needle in hand, full of ink.

"You will need to pull up your robes and dress." She said without emotion.

"Excuse me?" Willa asked, shocked.

"The tattoo goes here." Josephina pointed to the exact spot above Willa's hip that Rigel had recently touched.

"Tattoo?" Willa asked as Rigel's meaning of 'you will see' dawned on her.

"Everyone in Slytherin receives one. We are eternally bound to one another." Josephina explained impatiently, as if this was common knowledge.

"Why you though?" Willa pressed.

"I am the newest Prefect and conveniently our House's best artist." Josephina smiled.

Willa nodded, though she wondered if Josephina was a better artist than her. She had learned charcoal sketching from her Muggle neighbors in Dublin when she was only six, and then practiced nearly daily ever since. It was not her natural talent, but she had done it long enough to be good.

"Now, your robes." Josephina motioned upwards. Willa obliged and then lay back on the chaise.

The tattoo was administered in a magical art form Willa was yet to learn. The needle moved at Josephina's wand's casting. It did not take long and when Willa inspected the small Slytherin crest, she found it immaculately detailed. The snake even moved in and out of its place on the crest, as if it were a portraiture.

"It looks amazing!" she said, truly excited.

"Thank you," Josephina said. "You are now officially a Slytherin. Welcome to the dungeon, Wilhelmina Gamp."

Willa smiled and put her dress and robes back down. "I will send in Abigail."

Josephina nodded and began to ready another needle while saying, "Now you know you cannot mention this tattoo, correct?"

"To anyone?"

"Anyone outside of Slytherin. It is only known within our house. It can only be seen by other Slytherins." Josephina explained.

"Understood." Willa said, a small thrill going through her when realized Septimus too shared this secret with her. They were further bound to one another in secrets.

She sent Abigail in without explanation and found herself drawn back to the green light of the Great Lake. After a few moments, Rigel joined her, staring out into the water alongside her.

"Sometimes the resident giant squid swims by for a visit." He said.

"How longstanding is the tattoo tradition?" Willa asked, not looking at him.

"My parents both claim to have one. My father does for certain. My mother, I have not seen so much of her to know. Perhaps Elnath can confirm that for you." Rigel replied. He finally looked to her and asked. "Did it hurt too much?"

"No," Willa replied. "I have experienced the Cruciatus Curse, so nothing really hurts me anymore."

"What?" Rigel was aghast, looking around to see if anyone could hear her.

"Yes, my brother and I practiced quite a bit of dark magic together." Willa met his eyes and then added, "Though what is illegal here is not illegal everywhere."

"Surely the Unforgiveable Curses are illegal in America?" Rigel said. He thought they were, but perhaps he had been misinformed.

"They are. I did not mean those in particular." Willa said. She lightened her expression and said, "Sorry, I did not intend to alarm you. I thought you already knew this from Ciaran."

"Ciaran and I were not close. Not like you and Elnath." Rigel explained.

"So, the iron door?" Willa asked, moving the conversation on.

"Yes," Rigel brightened and moved them closer to the window for privacy. "You can see it?"

"Yes,"

"So can Elnath." He said. "I think it is because we are all Parselmouths."

"Or perhaps because we are all of the Gaunt bloodline, descendants of Salazar Slytherin?" Willa suggested.

"Yes, that seems more logical, now that you say it. Come, you should see this." He began towards a tapestry covered wall connected to the wall of windows facing the lake. "This is the Tapestry of Heritage."

Willa took in the vast fabrics and threads. Needlework portraits of every Slytherin before her adorned it. The very top of the wall featured a large portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

"This is me and Elnath." Rigel pointed to their portraits. They looked about thirteen in them. Their names were underneath their faces. Above them was their mother, named here as Nerodia Gaunt. Willa's mother was next to her, with no one underneath her. Beside both sisters was Corvinus Gaunt, and all three were underneath their father. Everyone appeared around age thirteen, so Willa assumed third year was when the portraits were done.

Their family's line went upwards reaching the wicked countenance of Gormlaith Gaunt rather soon, then eventually up to Salazar himself. Willa noticed the portraits higher on the tapestry bore a pair of skulls and crossbones outside their names. She assumed this to indicate the person as deceased.

"Where is Uncle Castor?" Willa asked.

Rigel pressed his wand to his mother's portrait and a snakelike silver thread appeared on the tapestry. It slithered its way to the Black family tree, which was almost as far reaching as the Slytherin one. The silver thread eventually found Castor's portrait and when Rigel removed his wand, the thread disappeared.

Willa pressed her wand to her mother's portrait, but nothing happened.

"Why will it not work for me?" she asked.

"It only shows Slytherins." Rigel said, as if this explained it.

She stared at him, confused.

"You do not know?" he said, lowering his voice to be sensitive. "Your father was a Gryffindor."

"No." Willa said flatly. "He never said. I just assumed he was Slytherin like my mother."

"There is no shame in it. Gryffindor is a fine house. All of the houses are." Rigel nodded.

A loud cheer from the rest of the common room drew their attention.

"Ah, the first years have completed their initial round of tests!" Rigel exclaimed cheerfully, bounding towards the group of students.

Willa lingered a moment longer at the Tapestry of Heritage. Abigail and Josephina rushed past her to the crowd, Abigail going directly to Rigel who brushed her off easily. At his rebuff she sought out Octavia. Willa found herself in front of the Malfoy tree, which was as far reaching as the Black lineage, but far less populated. The Malfoys either usually only had one child per generation, or the others were not Slytherins.

Willa glanced back at the crowd to ensure no one was watching and then pushed her wand against Septimus' young portrait. A silver thread appeared, winding its way to the Burke family tree, specifically to Lila Burke. When Willa approached the portrait, she saw the skull and crossbones around her name. Lila had wild red hair and a permanent scowl. She stared at the portrait for longer than she should have, her hand drawn to its threads. As she touched it, the skull and crossbones disappeared and she felt a cold sensation grow from the tips of her fingers backwards. It was the exact sensation as when she touched the tapestry in Malfoy Manor.

Finally Elnath's loud voice tore her attention away as she boomed from the top of a table, "Welcome to the dungeon, new Slytherins!"

"Let the festivities begin!" Quintus declared, standing next to Elnath.

The crowd erupted and Willa hurried to join in. She found Rigel easily and he shoved a glass with two fingers of firewhisky into her hand.

"Cheers, cousin!" he smiled, holding up his own glass.

"Cheers!" Willa said and clinked his glass before they both drank.

"Now, let us collect Elnath and go see what is behind that door." He said in Parseltongue with a sly smile.

"You have never been in it?" Willa asked in Parseltongue as well.

"It only appeared this year." He explained, continuing in the snake language.

They arrived at Elnath just after Quintus helped her down from the table. When she saw their faces, she immediately knew what they were up to. She grabbed Quintus' sleeve as he moved to walk away.

"Under fourth year is in bed by ten." She said to him.

"I know." He smiled. "Good job tonight."

"You too." She said.

He disappeared into the crowd in search of wine and Elnath nodded to her cousins to indicate she was ready to go. Willa and Rigel finished their firewhisky and the trio snuck out the common room door.

"Have you spoken to him?" Willa asked once they were in the outside hallway. Her tone clearly implied she meant Quintus.

"Not yet, we have been with the first years all evening." Elnath said.

They arrived at the iron door a moment later and all stood in silence.

"You never have seen it before?" Willa finally asked.

"No," her cousins said in unison.

"What is different this year?" Willa asked.

"You are here." Rigel said.

"Yes, but, would it need all three of us to present itself? That seems… unlikely." Willa said. "What else?"

Elnath said nothing and Willa noticed her silence.

"Your locket." Willa said.

"Why would you suggest that?" Elnath said, clutching the space on her chest where it fell, hidden behind her robes.

"It is an heirloom, is it not?" Willa asked.

Elnath hesitated.

"Show it to us." Rigel said.

Elnath pulled it out and the entire locket glowed green, brighter and more yellow than the green light from the Great Lake. All three of them inhaled sharply at this surprise.

"Look," Rigel said, pointing to the door. A hollowed out space formed in its center, the shape exactly matching that of the locket.

Elnath threw a furtive glance around them to check no one was watching, then slid the chain over her head and pushed the locket into the space. Wrought iron jumped to life, weaving over the locket to clamp it in place.

Willa examined the door, which had no handle.

"The hinges are set for it to open outwards. There must be a spell." She said.

" _Alohomora_ ," Elnath hissed in Parseltongue.

The door swung open with a loud creak.

"Lucky guess," Elnath said, laughing lightly. She walked through the open door as if she owned whatever lie beyond it. Rigel and Willa looked at one another with worry before following her inside.

The chamber appeared to be a study. The more they looked around, the more obvious it became that this was Salazar Slytherin's private office. Everything inside was curved or twisted, snakelike. The walls had shelving built into them, featuring all sorts of potions and divinations materials. Salazar's personal stationery featured on the desk, alongside a long unused quill. Notably missing from the room were any portraits or paintings. Nothing that would risk permitting entry without the locket itself.

"This is incredible." Elnath murmured, her fingertips running over various items throughout the chamber.

"It feels there will be traps inside." Willa said.

"Not for the heirs of Salazar Slytherin. I propose a toast." Rigel said. He rummaged into his robe for the bottle of firewhisky and Willa noticed Elnath shove something into her robes. It looked like a black leather-bound journal.

Rigel opened the bottle and said, "I have no glasses."

"Allow me." Willa said and transfigured three items nearby into crystal glasses.

"Brilliant," Rigel smiled. He poured a finger into each glass and then handed them to Elnath and Willa.

"A toast," Willa said, holding up her glass.

"Yes, a toast to the Gaunts, the remaining heirs of Salazar Slytherin. The true blood of this house. May we ever be in favor with fortune and fate." Rigel said.

"Here, here!" Willa and Elnath said with contentment.

The three clinked their glasses and drank down the firewhisky straight.

"We should return to the common room." Elnath said after a moment.

Willa nodded and transfigured their glasses back into the original items.

"A moment longer?" Rigel asked. "I think I could live in here."

"You can return to it, but not live here. You have the main quarters in the common room as Head Boy." Elnath reminded him.

"Come," Willa said to Rigel, linking her arm with his to drag him from the chamber. The door closed behind them on its own. Rigel stumbled alongside her and Willa wondered why he had drank so much already.

"I wonder what is happening in Gryffindor right now." Rigel muttered. It was more of a thought he said out loud than anything of value. Yet Willa was wondering the same.

"In all likelihood they are already asleep." Elnath rolled her eyes.

The trio was back to the common room by now, no one really having noticed they had left except for Abigail Greengrass. Her stare was upon them and Willa quickly unlinked her arm from her male cousin and linked arms with her female cousin instead.

The crowd had thinned as all those under fourth year had been sent to bed by Quintus. She and Elnath pushed deeper into the common room, near to the Great Lake, and noticed a group passing around an opium pipe on the couches.

"I do not smoke." Willa whispered to Elnath.

"Me neither." Elnath said.

"Let us find another drink, perhaps wine?" Willa said.

"No, stay with the firewhisky now that you have drank two. You will thank me in the morning." Elnath said and led them back to Rigel, where she pickpocketed his bottle as he spoke animatedly to Thomas Greengrass.

The girls bolted away to a divan against the wall hosting the Tapestry of Heritage. The cushion was upholstered in green and silver stripes and set upon a sturdy mahogany base. They passed the bottle between them until it was finished and both were giggling loudly.

" _Aguamente_." Elnath cast, refilling the bottle with water. "We both must finish two of these between us."

Willa leaned to drink from the stream of water coming from Elnath's wand. She began to laugh as Elnath pushed her and water went up her nose. They both shrieked as Willa jerked up and Elnath nearly lost control of the bottle.

"At least two." Elnath said once they calmed.

* * *

"Prefect's quarters." Elnath boasted, two bottles of water later. She led Willa into a large dormitory, which was much too big for only two people, yet that was the number of beds within it.

"Stunning," Willa said turning around to take it all in. There were two armoires and a full-length mirror for dressing. Two sitting chairs were cozily set by a small table all on top of a fur rug. Behind them were tall windows opening out to the Great Lake itself.

The same eerie green light from the common room's windows shined into the lake, allowing about twenty feet of visibility into its depths. The resident giant squid swam into view and Elnath waved at it. Willa could have sworn it waved back at her before swimming off, but did not mention this to Elnath.

"I feel very honored to be your roommate in such an excellent dormitory." Willa said.

"As if I would ask anyone else." Elnath laughed. She pointed at her trunk with her wand and said, " _Accio_ night clothes."

They flew out at her and she began to change, so Willa did the same.

As they did, Willa decided to ask about what had bothered her from tonight, "They permit hazing at Hogwarts?"

"Hazing? No. With the first years, you mean? No, that is not hazing." Elnath explained.

"Then what is it?"

"We challenge the first years all week to determine their strengths and weaknesses. Then we pair each one with an older Slytherin who can help them improve upon their weak points and further succeed in their strengths." Elnath explained. "That is where you come in… from what I recall, you excel in every subject, right?"

"Not potions. I am terrible at potions." Willa admitted and climbed into the smaller bed.

"Oh, really?" Elnath frowned as she climbed into her bed. The idea was difficult for her to conceive given her proclivity for the subject.

"Yes. In fact I did not even sign up for Potions this term." Willa said.

"You are serious? I am in both Potions and Alchemy. I have to win the Potions Championship this year, and I know Arlo Potter is after it as well." She grumbled out the Gryffindor's name. A moment later she frowned and asked Willa, "But what will you take instead?"

"I am signed up for Muggle Studies!" Willa exclaimed with excitement.

"No you are not!" Elnath said, her voice hushed even though they were alone.

"Yes, I am. I start Monday. Why?" Willa replied.

"No Slytherin takes Muggle Studies." Elnath said. "Not ever."

"Not until 1792, you mean." Willa smiled. "They do not offer it at Ilvermorny. I am very excited for it."

Elnath sighed and then after thinking for a moment said brightly, "Well, then you can eavesdrop on the rest of the houses for us. They will likely forget there is even a Slytherin in there if you do not call attention to it."

"Consider it done." Willa smiled.

"What else are you taking?" Elnath asked.

"Let me think… Muggle Studies, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures—which I believe we have together with your future husband, Professor Stump." Willa paused to deflect the pillow Elnath threw at her, then continued, "Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Advanced Charms. I am also looking into both Music and Muggle Music as well as Magical Theory as extracurricular. What about you?"

"Obviously Potions and Alchemy," Elnath began. "Besides Care of Magical Creatures, I also have Defence Against the Dark Arts and Advanced Charms with you. But I am taking Herbology and Ancient Runes, specifically for the Egyptian Hieroglyphs."

"Any extracurricular?" Willa asked.

"Beyond being a Prefect… maybe Ancient Studies to help with my Runes and knowing about older potions that have failed." Elnath said, unsure if she would have the time.

"Thank goodness we do not care about Quidditch." Willa laughed.

"You are the one wanting to try out for Triwizard Tournament. You are out of your mind if you think you will have time for that _and_ Muggle Music." Elnath laughed.

"Dueling is easy when you are skilled at legilimency." Willa said quietly.

"I forgot about that." Elnath grinned. "I will not tell anyone."

"We should sleep. That firewhisky took it out of me." Willa said, lying down on her bed. The eerie green light continued to come from the windows and she asked, "Is that light always there?"

"I have not been in this dormitory before tonight, so I could not say. Hopefully not, but we can find a way to cover the windows if we must." Elnath said.

Elnath got up to douse the torch lantern and the room fell to darkness, including no more green light. After stumbling into her trunk and letting out a swear word, she pulled out her wand and said, " _Lumos_." At the charm, Elnath's wand lit as well as the green light from the windows.

"Now that is clever." Willa said.

"It really is!" Elnath said, excited. When she was tucked back into bed she said, " _Nox_ ," and to both their delights, the green light went away.

"Goodnight, my cousin." Willa said.

"Goodnight, my cousin." Elnath replied.

Willa lay in the darkness, staring towards the ceiling at the nothingness. Her head still swam with firewhisky and she wanted nothing more than to sleep, but it was slow to come. Despite the warmth of the night's festivities, she was racked with anxiety. The Sorting Hat's desire to put her in every house but Slytherin, it seeing she was lost, and the fact that she had prodded Braxton's blatant grief all gnawed at her.

Mostly though, she worried for Septimus' safety in Paris. If the Prussian armies were on the march, they would be there by the morning. Having lived in Boston and Baltimore during the after violence of the No-Maj revolution, she knew no amount of protective enchantments and Muggle-Repelling charms could keep out warfare, even from the securest of locations.


	5. A Journey Begins

When a staircase moved on her, Willa got a little lost on her way to Muggle Studies after breakfast Monday. Elnath only knew one way to get that classroom, and now that way was blocked. Thankfully she had planned to arrive early, so while she was the last person to arrive, she was not late. She slid into a seat at an empty table in the back of the small classroom a moment before the professor stood up and closed the door with a spell.

"Hello again everyone!" the Professor said cheerfully.

"Hello Professor Albion!" the group sang out, shy a few people, including Willa.

"I see we have a few new students this year, welcome. I am Professor Albion and this is Advanced Muggle Studies for Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh years." He said with a kind smile as he assessed the ages of Willa and a couple Ravenclaws who sat together two tables in front of her. Satisfied they fit the age range, he looked out to everyone again and asked, "What are some new Muggle inventions since we last convened and which spell or element do they align with in the wizarding world?"

Several people raised their hands and Willa noticed 90% of the class consisted of Hufflepuffs. She recognized only two students, the Head Girl, who Rigel told her was Bridgette McGregor, and one of Braxton's mates from the Welcome Feast, Clement Prince. Clement also sat alone and she soon surmised he was the only Gryffindor there.

Professor Albion called on a Hufflepuff boy sat right up front, "Mr. Murdoch?"

"My Muggle father used coal gas to light our house this summer. He thinks it is the first commercial use of coal gas lighting in the world." The boy said in an excited tone.

"Very exciting news, Mr. Murdoch. What does it correlate to in the wizarding world?" the professor asked.

"Lumos maxima." Murdoch replied.

"Yes, very good. Five points for Hufflepuff. Now who is next?"

The same group raised their hands and he called on a Ravenclaw. Willa began to wonder if she was the only fully wizard-born person in there.

"Last year the gas turbine was patented, Professor, but we were able to see it this year at the Hannover Fair. They said it is meant to power a horseless carriage, but I do not see how their design will be effective." The Ravenclaw girl said matter-of-factly before adding, "Since we already have carriages that move by themselves at Hogwarts, the ones that bring us to the castle each start of term, I suppose that is the equivalent."

"Sorry, but those carriages are drawn by Thestrals." Willa blurted out. Every single student turned to look at her, so she continued with the assignment, "I do not believe any equivalent to the engine exists as a wizard invention. The Mobili- charms family would be the closest equivalent, though it is not used for any carriages to my knowledge."

"Very good, Miss…?" Professor Albion said.

"Gamp." Willa offered.

"Very good, Miss Gamp. Five points to Slytherin." He finished.

Willa smiled as the room murmured to each other, only now realizing a Slytherin was in their midst.

"What else?" Professor Albion asked.

This time he called on one of the new Ravenclaws.

"Perhaps in a previous class this was mentioned, but the guillotine was invented in France recently." She said, then added quietly, "I suppose it is equivalent to the Killing Curse."

"Yes, that is correct. Though we did mention that last year." The professor said.

"Sorry, but what is a guillotine?" Willa asked.

The Ravenclaw girl turned around and explained that it was a contraption the French built to quickly sever off a Muggle's head.

"How horrible," Willa murmured, recoiling.

"Yes, it is an instrument of death. Introduced during the start of their Revolution three years ago. It is commonplace in Paris now." Professor Albion said. "Truly horrible that such a thing exists."

"Commonplace in Paris? Now?" Willa stammered out, the color draining from her face. All she could think of was Septimus.

"Miss Gamp, are you well?" Professor Albion asked, walking towards her.

She felt herself nodding and he stopped in front of her, pulling out a piece of chocolate from his robe.

"Here, eat this." He said.

She took it and nibbled on it.

"Better?" he said with a nod and then walked back to the front. Willa surmised her color must have returned, and Professor Albion continued with his lesson, forcing the prying eyes off of her. All except those belonging to Clement Prince. He continued to look at her, but with concern more than curiosity. When she finally looked at him, he tucked some of his stringy black hair behind his ear and mouthed, "Are you all right?" She nodded back and took a deep breath, then looked up front to tune the professor back in.

"We will be comparing essays on this topic, so I want to hear everyone's thoughts. First though, who can tell me what Rappaport's Law states?" Professor Albion was saying.

Willa sunk into her chair. Maybe Advanced Muggle Studies was not the right choice for her after all.

The other new Ravenclaw was called on, and she recited the law with a memorized exactness, except she said it wrong. How the Ravenclaw girl presented the law implied that no contact with No-Majs was allowed in any scenario, which was not the case. Already having corrected another Ravenclaw not too long ago, Willa debated to present the facts or not.

Professor Albion knew the answer given was wrong, but he did not tell the Ravenclaw thus, instead his eyes roamed the classroom while he said, "Does everyone agree with Miss Anthon?"

His eyes landed last on Willa and she felt compelled to speak up, as if he knew that she knew. She sighed and raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Gamp?"

"I disagree with Miss Anthon's statement of the law. The law states that in addition to adherence to the International Statute of Secrecy, all American witches and wizards must abstain from all interaction with No-Majs except for when necessary to perform daily activities and obligations." Willa stated.

"Correct. Tell me, Miss Gamp, do they teach this law at Ilvermorny?"

"No, they presented it only the year it was introduced. Otherwise it is a law one is expected to know and obey, like any other." Willa said.

" _Ignorantia juris neminem excusat,_ " Clement murmured the motto of the British Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement: _Ignorance of the law is not an excuse_.

Willa looked to him and said, "Precisely."

"So, what happens to wizards born from No-Maj parents?" a Hufflepuff boy asked, stumbling over the American term 'No-Maj.'

Willa smiled and laughed, "Yes, what does? President Rappaport and her party's Congress did a poor job writing the law. They did not account for that scenario at all, despite how commonplace it is."

Willa thought on how parenting might be considered a daily obligation. Her parents seemed to feel that way much of the time, especially her father. She wondered bitterly if that was a Gryffindor trait.

"You speak as though you were there while the law was drafted?" Miss Anthon noted.

"I was." Willa said simply. Everyone knew this fact about her at Ilvermorny. The gossip surrounding the entire incident had been a chief reason for moving from Baltimore to Ohio.

The classroom murmured in amazement, and Professor Albion raised his eyebrow, his interest in this Slytherin newcomer now fully piqued.

"You were there? Tell us." He said to Willa.

Willa shifted, uncomfortable not with the attention but with the amount of lying she would need to now do to protect her family. She silently cast occlumency and then launched into the version of events that anyone could find in the court records.

"Yes, I was a character witness for my brother, Ciaran Gamp. He was called in for questioning because he knew Dorcus Twelvetrees from Ilvermorny." She said. Seeing everyone stared with blank faces she realized she would have to explain that further, "Miss Twelvetrees is the one who gave away the location of both MACUSA and Ilvermorny to a scourer."

Blank faces still.

"Does no one know what a scourer is?" Willa asked.

Professor Albion searched the room, but no one appeared to.

"A scourer is someone who despises magic. Traditionally from a magical family who was ostracized after the events of Salem a century ago." The professor explained.

"No, a scourer is someone who hunts witches and wizards with intention to expose and murder them." Willa said with bitterness.

"Miss Gamp, in this classroom we aim to keep comments and thoughts objective, stating facts before we form opinions." Professor Albion stated.

"What a luxury." Willa murmured to herself after the professor looked away.

Professor Albion continued to explain Rappaport's Law, the American magical community, and its implications for the country and perhaps the world. His history of America's magical community was the British version that accounted for only Isolt Sayre's tale and ignored the realities and complications of the native magical communities. These diverse communities ranged across all the Americas, including the Spanish- and French-owned territories making up most of the continent. This was not to even mention the African communities that had been forced across the Atlantic in the Muggle slave trade only to form their own free communities in the Americas. Her family's time living in New Orleans had been eye opening to these truths, which were something no one in Baltimore cared to believe. Fighting against slavery could only lead to breaches in the International Statute of Secrecy, after all.

Professor Albion then set a series of essays that would be due each week until Halloween. Each essay dealt with a different element of Rappaport's Law. Everyone seemed delighted with the homework as they scribbled down each week's topic. Willa wondered how honest she could be in her essays and determined to risk the first one to gauge the professor.

A moment before class ended, he asked Willa to stay after for a word.

"I have Care of Magical Creatures next, sir. I do not know how to get to the Forbidden Forest and fear I will be late." She protested.

"I will only be a moment." He said sternly.

"Gryffindor and Slytherin have that together this year." Clement Prince said. "I can take you there. I know a shortcut"

"You see," Professor Albion smiled. "Very well, class, I looked forward to seeing your outlines for the essays at our next class."

At that, everyone packed their quills and parchment and hurried to the door. Willa approached the professor as Clement brushed past her saying, "I will be outside the door."

She nodded to him and then looked at Professor Albion once they were alone.

"I merely want to apologize." He said in a soft tone. "I realize your experiences in America must have been difficult. Unfortunately, the student body at Hogwarts has no exposure to such unrest. It is alarming for them to learn of such things. I do not wish to discourage your participation."

"You could not possibly gauge the difficulties of my experiences, sir." Willa said, incensed with his willful ignorance. "Forgive me for being so blunt, but to protect these students from exposure to the truths of this world is a disservice to the entire community. Not to mention you have no grasp on the reality of the American magical community if you think MACUSA is the only government in effect there."

"Oh, and I suppose you will enlighten me to these realities? I have been to the Americas, Miss Gamp. You may feel strongly no one understands, but the reality is while Britain no longer controls the Americas directly, its empire stretches the globe. You will find at Hogwarts there is little tolerance to radicalism, and I caution you to curb your tongue in future interactions. Not every faculty member is as open-minded as me."

Willa stared at him. If this man thought he was open-minded, then she did not know how to move forward with him.

"I understand. Thank you for the advice, professor." She said with a tight smile and then against her better judgment she added, "I might caution you to reevaluate your approach with the Muggle-born students. If you think that they lack awareness of the horrors prevailing in the Muggle world, then you are a fool. The inclusion of this…guillotine as a known Muggle invention should suffice as evidence enough."

Willa spun on her heel and left Professor Albion with his mouth agape, too shocked to even call out an issuance of detention.

Willa emerged in a haughty huff and Clement jumped to alert, almost running to catch up with her.

"Went that well, huh?" he joked.

"That man is an utter addle pate. What is he even thinking they need to be protected from reality? Look around, this stuffy school already does that!" Willa growled, too angry to remember she barely knew Clement and anything she might say would be within his whimsy alone to remain confidential.

"Purebloods are often ignorant." Clement agreed. "Still, I had him last year and he does mean well. Plus he offers a window into the Muggle world no other professor is willing to."

"He is a pureblood? I thought I was the only one in there." Willa said, though it shed some light on the professor's actions.

"No, a few of the Hufflepuffs are as well, and the returning Ravenclaw—the one who did not know about the thestrals. She is a piece of work. I was so glad you corrected her." Clement laughed, then turned down a corridor Willa had never been down. "This way."

"She did seem a little insufferable." Willa laughed, relaxing a little as she followed him. "What about you, are you pureblood?"

"No, my mum's a Muggle." Clement admitted. "Braxton and Arlo both are though. They always call me the Half-Blood Prince."

"Are you an actual prince?" Willa asked.

"No, no, for my surname, Prince." He laughed. "Come on, down this stairwell and then we can take the secret passageway directly to the forest."

At the base of the stairs, Clement tapped a crouching suit of armor on the helm of its sword twice with his wand and said, "Show me the way, brave knight."

The knight stood and crossed its sword with its shield, causing a human-sized opening to reveal itself in the floor.

"You have to jump, but the base is enchanted to soften the fall." Clement explained.

"You go first." Willa said.

Clement shrugged and stepped over the gap, plummeting below. Willa peered down and Clement called up to her to jump before the entry closed. She held her breath and walked over the gap as Clement had done. The freefall was exhilarating and terrifying at once, and the ground gave way as she landed, soft like a pillow. Willa laughed and looked around her. They were in a tunnel, overgrown with ivy and scattered with pieces of daylight.

"You sure you are not a Gryffindor?" Clement smiled and then said, " _Lumos_ ," to light up their path.

Willa rolled her eyes, "You wish!"

"Not really. The shock of every Hufflepuff when Professor Albion awarded Slytherin points was worth it." He laughed and began to lead them through the tunnel.

Willa hurriedly cast, " _Lumos_ ," as well and then commented, "I bet Braxton will find that amusing."

"Why do you say that?" Clement asked, his voice hinted at amusement.

"He seems to hate Slytherins is all." Willa shrugged.

"No, only the Malfoys." Clement replied.

"Because of Septimus?" Willa asked.

"Septimus? Are you on a personal name basis with the de facto Minister of Magic?"

Willa blushed and hastily said, "No, I just meant to clarify which Malfoy. Easier to do so by personal names."

Clement studied her a moment longer before shrugging.

"Septimus—to clarify which Malfoy—wrongfully imprisoned Braxton's mother for killing her squib daughter. She just birthed another daughter before they sent her to Azkaban, so now Mr. Bagshot is raising Braxton's baby sister, Bathilda, and unable to work. It is not an ideal situation."

"Who killed his other sister then, if his mother did not?" Willa pressed.

"It was an accident. Mr. Malfoy insisted otherwise." Clement explained.

Willa nodded vaguely, certain there was more to the story than anyone was willing to share.

"But Braxton likes Slytherins otherwise, especially your cousin." Clement clarified.

"Elnath?" Willa asked, shocked.

"No, Rigel. He was very considerate to Braxton during the proceedings last spring." Clement said.

"How do they even know each other?"

"Everyone knows Rigel Black." Clement said. "He is the nicest person at Hogwarts."

Willa grinned with amusement. She had not expected Rigel to be this popular.

"Right, well," Clement cleared his throat and Willa noticed he was blushing. "Please do not mention I said that to him."

"Why not? It is a nice compliment."

"No reason. Look, there is the tunnel exit." Clement said quickly, pointing up.

Willa looked to see full daylight streaming in from a gap above them. They both darkened their wands.

" _Ascendio_!" Willa cast, flying out of the tunnel to find a group of startled Slytherins and Gryffindors. A second " _Ascendio_ " followed from Clement and everyone gasped. He landed next to her and they exchanged a brief smile before splitting into their houses.

Elnath dragged Willa beside her and whispered, "What was that about?"

"Clement knew a shortcut from Muggle Studies to here." Willa shrugged, not in a whisper. "It matters little."

"His best friend hates Quintus. It matters." Elnath whispered hastily.

Willa shot a glance back at Clement, who appeared to be amidst a similarly awkward conversation with Braxton Bagshot. The latter glanced up to meet her eyes at that moment and Willa quickly looked back to Elnath.

"We need to talk about Quintus. But not here." She said quietly, noticing Quintus stood among the sixth year Slytherins looking bored as he listened to Marion Bulstrode boast about his summer holiday.

Elnath eyed her with concern. Willa looked around for a professor and saw none, then continued in hushed Parseltongue.

"He was seen kissing Catherine Avery this July." She hissed.

"Who told you this?" Elnath replied in Parseltongue.

"Abigail Greengrass. She made me promise not to tell you, so I do not think she was lying." Willa hissed.

Elnath's countenance grew dark and she said nothing. Her jaw set in a hard line and Willa shuddered for Quintus' well-being. Not even the attractive Professor Grogan Stump's arrival could lighten her mood.

"Apologies for my tardiness, class." Professor Stump puffed, trying to catch his breath. He clearly had run there. "It will not happen again. However, I have the most exciting thing to show you."

The students all hesitated a moment before pushing forward.

"Yes, come, come. They are deeper in the forest." Professor Stump explained.

Willa saw Elnath walked with a focused stare ahead. She appeared ready to slaughter anything in her path. She regretted telling her the news in such a public place, but then Elnath whispered in English, "I need to tell you something about that later."

Willa nodded and linked her arm with Elnath, who did not shy away from her. Willa glanced again at the Gryffindors, who all had to move closer to the Slytherins to follow the professor's hurried pathway into the woods. Clement was looking at Braxton with a worried expression. He could feel Willa's gaze and turned to her.

"Is he well?" Willa mouthed.

Clement nodded and Willa looked back ahead. Braxton did not look well, though. He looked like some news similar to that of Quintus' infidelity had just reached him from Clement. The only blunder Willa could recollect was that of mentioning Septimus by personal name. It did not seem Clement would relay that slip up though. Especially not after his blushing about stating Rigel was nice, whatever that meant. Regardless, one slip up meant nothing, and there was nothing between her and Septimus to merit gossip. A gnawing correction of honesty reminded her that was not entirely true, even if she desired it to appear thusly. Willa conceded that perhaps it was her lack of siding with Braxton's mother that Clement had portrayed to Bagshot to put him in such a foul mood. Not that she outright sided with Septimus. She had offered no opinion on the matter.

She snuck another look towards the pair of young men and noted Braxton glared now at Quintus. Willa mused that he would need to get in line for that object of anger, but felt more comfortable that Braxton's anger was clearly not focused on her.

The group all stopped, having arrived at whatever creature they were about to meet. Willa could not see anything through the crowd and surmised the creature must be small.

"Who can tell me the difference between a Cockatrice and a Basilisk?" Professor Stump asked, as though the two horrific creatures were casually mentioned every day over breakfast.

No one said anything for a moment, too in shock that one of the two creatures—or possibly both of them—might be lurching in the nearby forest. Finally Elnath raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Black?" Professor Stump said.

"They are somewhat different creatures that are bred in similar ways. Often people confuse them for this reason." Elnath answered. "The cockatrice is bred from a cockerel's egg, which is incubated by a toad, while the basilisk is bred from a toad's egg, incubated by a cockerel. Due to this, a cockerel's crow will kill a basilisk. Though both creatures can reproduce through laying and incubating their own eggs."

"Absolutely correct. Five points to Slytherin." The professor said, beaming broadly at Elnath. "And what of the full-grown beasts? How do these creatures differ in adult form, anyone?"

Willa glanced at Elnath to see if Professor Stump's smile had eased her mood, but it was as if a darkness had spread within her. She wondered what more her cousin had to tell her about the situation.

"Yes, Mr. Bagshot?" Professor Stump said.

Willa snapped her head to look at him. He cleared his throat and pushed a stray curl from his forehead easily while replying, "Cockatrices are more dragon-like than basilisks. The cockatrice has sometimes been noted to have wings."

"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor." Professor Stump said cheerfully. "Now, the most important difference to remember between the two creatures is that basilisks are more dangerous creatures than cockatrices. Their stare alone will kill you. Therefore they are illegal to breed or own. Which should be a clue as to which creature I am showing you all today."

The professor laughed to himself, as no one else laughed at his joke, and finally moved aside to reveal three toads sat upon the ground.

Everyone gasped.

"Yes, yes. There are three potential cockatrices being incubated here as we speak." He said proudly. "For our yearlong project, we will monitor these eggs as they progress to hatchlings and eventually juvenile cockatrices. It should prove a very exciting year!"

"This is not going to end well for him." Elnath said quietly, her tone held worry not malice.

"For who?" Willa whispered, unsure if she meant Quintus.

"Grogan," Elnath said as though it were the only feasible option. "Cockatrices are hardly a good idea on school grounds."

Willa fought a giggle as Elnath clearly did not realize she had used the professor's personal name.

"We will split into three groups, one for each egg." Professor Stump continued, ignoring any noise from the students, which was a fair bit as the two cousins were not the only ones whispering. Cockatrices were not exactly a safe creature, even if far safer than a basilisk. The professor began to arbitrarily assign groups, not paying the slightest attention to House affiliation.

"Grogan huh? Did you know him while he was at Hogwarts?" Willa teased, wondering why this never dawned on her before that moment.

"Yes, he was Head Boy my first year." Elnath whispered.

"Miss Black, group one. Miss Gamp, group two." Professor Stump said and moved on to the Slytherins right behind them. The cousins looked around to figure out where to go.

Willa noticed Clement waving her over, so she went to him.

"Group Two?" she confirmed.

"Yes. It appears Group One will be problematic." He said and she followed his gaze to find Elnath approached the group featuring Quintus and Braxton, who stood opposite ends of the small group.

Quintus smiled at Elnath, but she ignored him and, much to the shock of Willa and Clement, walked directly to Braxton. She smiled at him and said, "Group One, right?"

Braxton nodded, equally shocked, as Elnath had not voluntarily spoken to him since first year before the Sorting Ceremony. Then, seeing Quintus was perturbed that she gave him attention, he decided to play into the game and flashed Elnath a dashing smile and loudly complimented her knowledge of cockatrices and basilisks. Elnath in turn made an ostentatious show of gratitude and returned the compliment. Quintus looked around, uncomfortable and trying to find a friend, but coming up empty. At this, both Braxton and Elnath became even further enraptured with their compliments and conversation.

They continued loud enough for everyone to hear and Clement and Willa shared a look before Clement asked her quietly, "Is Elnath angry with Quintus? I thought they were attached?"

Willa dripped sarcasm, saying, "Why ever would you ask such a thing?"

Clement laughed.

"I see Group One is in capable hands from both houses," Professor Stump said, stopping in front of Elnath and Braxton. He looked at the other groups and added, "I suggest you all engage with the subject quickly."

Willa turned to her group and started to speak, naturally assuming the leadership role before anyone else had a chance. Her group's Slytherins seemed content with her actions, and Clement supported her, so the Gryffindors of Group Two made no protest as she doled out assignments for the yearlong project.

When class ended, Willa wanted nothing more than to link arms with Elnath and get the full details on what happened with her and Quintus between breakfast and Care of Magical Creatures, but Professor Stump rendered such a diversion impossible.

"Miss Gamp, Mr. Bagshot, please stay a moment after." He said.

"Sir, I have Divination next." Braxton protested. The class was at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Willa had Divination next as well, but said nothing, accepting her fate must be to stay late after every class today.

"It will be only a moment. I can write you both a line to your next professor."

Thank you." Braxton said.

Willa walked over to them, as the professor stood by Braxton and Elnath, not by Group Two.

"I would wait," Elnath said to her then flashed her eyes to Braxton and back, and lowered her voice, "But I have Potions next and need to get the best cauldron before Potter does."

Braxton seemed to overhear, but said nothing to defend his friend. Willa waved her cousin to hurry and turned to the professor. He waited until they three were alone and motioned for the pair to follow him, leading them through the bright woods into a darker part of the forest.

"I was told this is where they live." Professor Stump said.

Braxton and Willa looked around, somewhat nervously, unsure what to expect after the cockatrices.

"Well? Are they here?" the professor asked with a mixture of nervous impatience.

Braxton was about to respond in negation when Willa said, "Oh, look!" in a soft voice. "Well hello there," she continued in a maternal voice to a tiny thestral foal who approached her shyly.

"Oh, he is adorable." Braxton exclaimed, also in a quiet voice.

"It is a thestral?" the professor confirmed.

"Yes," Willa said, now crouching so the foal would fully approach.

"You cannot see them?" Braxton realized.

"No, I cannot. But I surmised from your very public intercourse after the Welcome Feast that you both could." Professor Stump said, causing both parties to blush. He continued, "I hoped you would agree to help me care for them."

Willa stood and nodded, "Of course. I helped with the thestrals at Ilvermorny since first year."

"Oh, I did not realize for so long." The professor said, alarmed and saddened for her.

Willa shrugged, used to comforting others about her own experiences, and said simply, "America is a very violent place. Almost everyone can see thestrals there. They are part of the No-Maj's lore."

"Do you really need both of us?" Braxton asked the professor after Willa finished.

She frowned, insulted he did not want to work with her.

"Headmaster Hayward indicated the herd is quite large. I will need at least two people." Professor Stump replied. "I can award you both extra credit for it, unless you do not want to help?"

"No, I can help." Braxton said. Professor Stump's tone had not afforded space for any other response.

"Good man!" the professor clapped him on the back and gave Willa a nod. "Thank you both."

Willa smiled and looked to the skeletal-like foal who had backed up, frightened by Professor Stump's loudness. She drew a small sigh thinking of Ciaran.

"Now, there is a reason this forest is forbidden." The professor said ominously. "So, you only will make visits in the daytime and preferably together or accompanied by me, understood?"

"Yes, sir." They said.

"Good, now let me write you some lines. Miss Gamp, who do you have next?"

"Divination. I do not remember the professor's name." she admitted and felt Braxton eyes on her.

"Professor Chauncey." Braxton said.

"This simplifies things for me!" Professor Stump exclaimed with a bright smile.

Lines in hand on a small ripped piece of parchment, Braxton and Willa set off for the castle.

"Why did you not wish to help?" Willa asked.

"I do not like thestrals." Braxton shrugged.

"You seemed to like the foal." She pointed out.

Braxton made no reply.

They walked in silence for a long while until finally Willa said, "Thank you for helping Elnath today."

"I saw Clement has taken a liking to you, so you perhaps think this gives you an introduction to me, but you and I are not ever going to be acquaintances. So, stop talking to me." Braxton snapped.

Willa stared at him a moment and then burst into laughter. She snatched Professor Stump's parchment from his hands and pushed ahead of him, not quite sure how to get to the Astronomy Tower, but very certain she did not need Braxton's help to find her way.

When she finally arrived at the classroom, Braxton was already there, sat at a table with the only empty chair in the room. Willa handed the parchment to Professor Chauncey, who appeared to be expecting it, and went to sit next to him.

"Looks like you will have to be acquainted with me three times a week." She said with a sneering smile of triumph.

Braxton shrugged and pushed a teacup her direction, saying, "We are reading tea leaves. Drink up."

Willa cast a spell to check for poison and Braxton raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. He had never once found the need for this spell and was surprised it was the first thing she thought to do. As if he would try to kill her.

Willa drank her tea fast, the liquid already cold from sitting out so long, and shoved the cup back to Braxton saying breezily, "Read my fate, Bagshot."

He looked into the cup and let out an involuntary, "Oh."

"What?" she asked, trying to determine if he was teasing her.

Professor Chauncey approached, sensing a real reading from him, and asked, "What do you see, son?"

Willa noticed Braxton flinch at the word 'son', but then he continued, speaking to the professor and not to Willa. "I see a cab, a square, and a cap."

Willa knew this combination of symbols meant something along the lines of _a gloomy outlook brought about by one of the opposite sex._

"How unfortunate." The professor said.

They both looked at Willa, who met Braxton's eyes and said coldly, "I thought it was telling my future, not my present?"

He shoved his cup in front of her and said, "Read mine."

She looked into his cup and saw a bride, a crescent moon, and a swallow. She sighed and then said, "It appears you are bound to embark on a journey that will lead to a romantic affair."

The professor took his cup to determine if Willa read it correctly and then nodded to Braxton with a smile, saying, "Such happy news for you, Mr. Bagshot." She looked between the pair and added, "How fortunate you are partners. I feel this energy between you, a very strong bond."

Willa nodded wholeheartedly, successfully fighting a laugh as Braxton grimaced out a smile for Professor Chauncey.


	6. New Information

"Thank Merlin you have arrived!" Elnath exclaimed as Willa plopped next to her in the Great Hall. They had planned their free periods to coincide and Elnath hastily packed up her bag now.

"Are we going somewhere?" Willa asked, exhausted from running between classes most of the day. Even lunch had not provided much reprieve as she found it difficult to eat without looking at Braxton. He was not paying attention to her, or to anyone, she noticed, but still, she kept looking at him and wondering why he hated her so much. It made it difficult to find an appetite and now her energy was sapped.

"Yes, we must finally speak. I have so much to say, and so much to ask you." Elnath declared, standing up. "Is it possible to have a worst first day?"

"Let us not tempt fate today. I daresay she might oblige." Willa groaned, grabbing an apple from a bowl in the center of the table and following her cousin.

"Smart thinking," Elnath muttered as she led the way to the courtyard and found a secluded spot for them to sit.

"Tell me again about what you heard regarding Quintus." Elnath asked.

"Before the Sorting Ceremony, I was sat next to Abigail Greengrass on stage. She was talking incessantly and accidentally mentioned that she had caught Catherine Avery and Quintus kissing in July, after his return from Greece. When I further inquired as to whether Catherine was attached to him, she finally remembered that I am your cousin." Willa explained. "I cannot be certain of course, but she seemed genuinely horrified at her blunder. I think therefore it was all truthful."

"I am fully inclined to believe you, both before at your word alone, but also now that I have witnessed Catherine and Quintus together with my own eyes." Elnath said.

"Tell me."

"Potions." Elnath breathed out in defeat. "I adore Potions class. So naturally this year, when it matters the most how I perform, I will be forced to stare at the back of Catherine Avery's and Quintus Malfoy's heads while they work together as partners."

"No?!"

"Yes. Their choice, too. I could scarcely believe it, but she weaseled right past me and into the space beside him as though it were already planned they would sit together. I always sit with him, mind you. It is the only class where we would actively appear attached, as it were." Elnath explained. "But it unfolds even worse."

"How?"

"Well, with Mr. Braxton Bagshot off at Divination with you, and Clement Prince partnered with some other Gryffindor, guess who my partner is this year?" Elnath spat.

"Not Arlo Potter?" Willa gasped.

"None other." Elnath grimaced.

Willa put her hand on Elnath's to comfort her.

"I feel like such a fool. Do you know what he said to me this morning?" Elnath shook her head. Her tone indicating clearly Quintus now was the male of topic.

"I wondered what happened since I left you at breakfast."

"He sat beside me once you left and leaned in very close, intimate, you know, and said how much he missed me all summer." Elnath said. "Then he offered to walk me to class, which was commonplace last year of course, so I obliged, thinking perhaps the whole Catherine thing was a misunderstanding."

"Right,"

Elnath sighed and looked away, out over the green fields of the grounds beneath them. Finally she continued, "I am so ashamed, but I have to tell somebody."

"You can trust me."

"On the way to class, he pulled me aside down a corridor and pressed me against the wall of the castle. It was all very…"

"Pleasant?" Willa suggested.

"Yes, rather pleasant, yes." She laughed hollowly and her eyes went dark, "Then he kissed me."

"Had you kissed before then?" Willa pressed.

Her cousin looked at her briefly then away.

"So yes." Willa said. "Often?"

"Yes. Well, define often?"

"Um, more than a few times?" Willa said, unsure of what would be normal.

She had never kissed someone she cared for romantically. Only for amusement with a couple of the more charming diplomats her father brought home during the last year, after Ciaran had died. In truth, she had never been attached to someone before either. No one had interested her sufficiently before Septimus.

"A few times per day?" Elnath asked.

"I really could not say by comparison, but, yes, that would be often." Willa said, desperately attempting to mask her shock.

"Have you never kissed someone before?" Elnath asked quietly.

"I have…just not someone I cared for like you did Quintus." Willa said.

"Oh," Elnath said, then looked around before leaning in, "Have you done more than kissing?"

"What? No." Willa blushed. "No, things were not like that at Ilvermorny. Are they like that here?"

"No, not really." Elnath muttered. She opened her mouth as if to say more, but hesitated. Finally she groaned out, "I thought I was going to marry him!"

"I am not judging you." Willa assured her.

"I know, I just… it seems so shameful now." Elnath said.

Willa nodded distantly, her mind fast in contemplation of the problem. "So, he kissed you today, but is with Catherine Avery."

"It appears thus." Elnath grumbled.

"Wait, do you think he kissed Catherine Avery today as well?" Willa gasped.

"Ew!" Elnath exclaimed, then let out a sort of wailing groan that almost mimicked a dying cat. "You must be right though."

Willa's thoughts became vengeful and protective of her cousin. Then she remembered Septimus and realized again how complicated the situation was for her. If she took out her anger on Quintus, surely he would write his father, who then would stop writing Willa. Not that he had started, she noted. As she thought this, she let out an inadvertent, "Hm."

"What?" Elnath asked.

"Oh, it is just so… complicated." Willa said.

"How so?"

"Quintus thinks that he can have both of you, but then so clearly flaunts his relationship with Catherine in front of you. How does he account for this lack of propriety?"

"I have not pressed the matter." Elnath replied. "Though my actions at Care of Magical Creatures may have been the push to change his heart towards Catherine. Merlin! I had not thought of that until just now. Do you think I caused this by flirting with that insolent Bagshot boy?"

"If he kissed Catherine in July, then surely his attachment to you faltered. This could be no fault of yours." Willa affirmed.

"You speak wisely, thank you." Elnath gave her hand a squeeze.

"Braxton seemed to enjoy flirting back with you, though." Willa teased.

"Hardly. He hates Quintus. It was a matter of convenience for him, I am sure. Besides, he is so… different this year." Elnath said.

"How do you mean?"

"It is as though a light inside of him has extinguished." Elnath said.

"His sister's death." Willa said, nodding sadly in her understanding. "Yes, that makes sense. So he was less horrible before, you mean?"

"Was he horrible to you?" Elnath pressed.

"Yes, quite so. He told me we would never be acquainted and demanded I not speak to him." Willa said then laughed. "And then we were made partners in Divination."

"Oh that is ripe!" Elnath squealed in laughter.

"I know! I let him have it, too, casting a poison revealing spell on my tea to make him think I assumed he would poison me." Willa said. "Merlin, what an arse he was."

"I am just glad someone else in this school agrees he is nothing special." Elnath laughed. "His mate Clement though… you should be careful with him."

"How so?" Willa frowned.

"He was practically making love to you!" Elnath said. "Someone of his status is not worth your time or risking your reputation."

"His status? Is he poor?"

"No, his blood status of course." Elnath said pointedly. "And yes, I believe he is also poor. Rumor is his family lives in some slum in Cokeworth."

"Where is Cokeworth?"

"Midlands." Elnath said.

"So what though?" Willa said. "Blood status is contrived and ridiculous, and I refuse to subscribe to it. Clement is very nice, which is more than can be said for a good lot of people here."

"What does that mean?"

"Need I list out the people who have been unfriendly to me since my arrival?" Willa said.

"Not me?"

"Of course not you! No, but Octavia Malfoy and her gang, Braxton, Professor Albion. Oh, he is the worst!" Willa groaned.

"I told you, no one takes Muggle Studies!" Elnath grinned triumphantly.

"Muggles were not the problem! That pureblood surmising he understands all of America because he has been there one time was the problem. Oh he is loathsome." Willa said, and then smiled. "But Clement was very understanding."

"Do you have feelings for him?" Elnath asked. "Be honest."

"No, not at all. He is nice, yes, but not attractive." Willa said. "Perhaps someone would find him attractive, but not me. He is too effeminate for my tastes."

"So you like a strong, masculine man?" Elnath teased.

"I daresay I do." Willa grinned, thinking of Septimus' muscular arm tight around her midsection in the upstairs hallway of his manor.

"Not me," Elnath said. "Somewhat, yes, but I like a little more brain than brawn."

"Oh, I like it all. Brawn, brain, charm, and confidence. Especially the confidence." Willa giggled and then gave her cousin a sly smile, "Tell me about Grogan though."

"Stop!" Elnath blushed, falling to laughter. "Oh, he is perfect though, is he not? I fancied him so much my first year and he has aged so very well."

"He is attractive, I can concede that." Willa nodded. "So innocent though. I need a little more mischief to find any intrigue."

"You demand quite a lot of the male specimen." Elnath said.

"Indeed. Still, I feel certain one exists who meets my exacting specifications." Willa said, longingly.

"Certain because you have met him already?" Elnath pressed.

"Perhaps," Willa smiled.

"Who?"

"No one here." Willa said dryly.

"Where then?"

Willa smiled at her cousin and finally said, "Let us see if he writes me first, and then I will tell you about him."

This was enough to quench Elnath's thirst for gossip on the subject, and she moved on to discussing Professor Stump's numerable qualities. Willa permitted her, half-listening and half-daydreaming about Septimus' pale blue eyes and magnificent hair. She longed to run her fingers through it and wondered if that opportunity would ever truly present itself, or if he would not hold the same feelings for her.

* * *

Mid-evening Thursday, Willa swished out the final punctuation of her first essay for Muggle Studies right as the door to Salazar's Study opened. She found Rigel entering and quickly apologizing to her for the interruption.

"Not to worry, I have just completed my essay. Were you coming to work away from the noise of the common room?" she asked him.

"Something like that, yes." Rigel smiled and closed the door behind him. "An essay due the first week? Who is so cruel?"

"Professor Albion." Willa groaned.

"Ah," Rigel said knowingly. "He is most definitely a Ravenclaw."

"I thought you felt all the houses were noble?" Willa teased.

"All the houses, yes. All their members?" He scrunched his nose.

Willa laughed and then recalled Clement's comment about Rigel.

"Well, I do have one saving grace in the class. That Gryffindor, Clement Prince, is in there. We each are the only ones from our houses, so we sort of… latched onto one another." Willa said.

"Clement Prince? He is friends with Braxton Bagshot, right?" Rigel asked.

"Yes, him and Arlo Potter… the Troublesome Trio, Elnath calls them." She laughed.

"He is very nice." Rigel said. "I spent some time with him in the spring when Braxton was…"

"Dealing with his mother being sent to Azkaban?" Willa filled in for him when he would not.

"Yes. That." Rigel said. "No fault of Mr. Malfoy, I feel it should be added."

"That is not how they see it." Willa said.

"That is because Braxton is misrepresenting the truth." Rigel said with some judgement.

"You know this from Mr. Malfoy, or?"

"I was at the proceedings." Rigel clarified.

Willa silently cast legilimens to read his mind for more details but found it full of images of Braxton and Clement and little else. She pulled out before he could notice her unannounced intrusion.

"Well, all I meant to tell you was that Clement said the kindest thing about you." Willa said.

"Oh?" Rigel pressed, a little more engaged than she anticipated.

"Yes," Willa grinned, amused to feed Rigel's willing ego. "He told me that you are the nicest person at Hogwarts."

"He really said that?" Rigel asked.

"Yes, why?"

"No reason, it was a very kind thing to say. I am flattered." Rigel said. He gave Willa a wolfish grin and added, "He has not really gotten to know you yet though, of course."

"What does that even mean?" Willa laughed uncomfortably, unsure if Rigel was now making a pass at her.

"Only to say you are nicer than me."

"Hardly." Willa said.

She packed her things and stood, but Rigel blocked her way.

"How have you been getting on?" he asked.

"At Hogwarts?"

He nodded.

"Well enough, I believe. I can only count one person who truly seems to hate me. So, I suppose that is a victory?" she smiled tightly.

"Who? I will beat them for you." Rigel suggested.

"Braxton Bagshot."

"Oh. You should go easy on him. He has been through an ordeal." Rigel said.

"I would be inclined to do so if he would speak to me, but he has made it clear that no such exchange should be made." Willa shrugged. "His loss."

"Yes." Rigel said, almost distantly. Then out of nowhere he asked, "Do you see Clement often?"

"Every day, yes." Willa said.

Rigel nodded and Willa pushed past him to the door.

"Do you often use this room to study?" he asked her.

She turned back to him, "No, just this once. Why?"

"I was hoping to claim it for myself." He admitted. "Elnath already said she did not mind if I did. She no longer had any use for it, she said."

Willa frowned. _What did Elnath mean by that?_ She remembered the black journal-like book Elnath had taken from the study the first night and now found herself wondering what its contents held.

"Is that a no?" Rigel asked, seeing Willa's frown.

"Sorry, no, I do not mind. I can use the library." Willa said. "Or perhaps we can move a desk into the Prefect's Quarters."

Rigel nodded and then added, "If it is a bother, just let me know."

"Yes, I will." Willa said with a nod.

She left the chamber and went straight for the common room. Rigel had changed the password to something less offensive than "mudblood" at her request earlier that week, and she murmured the new password now to be let inside. From there, she headed right to her dormitory.

"You are finally finished?" Elnath said from her bed as Willa entered their shared quarters.

"Yes, thankfully." Willa said. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

Elnath set aside the French alchemist Nicholas Flamel's latest book to pay her cousin full attention.

"Has Rigel seemed… off to you? Different somehow? Since we arrived here, I mean." Willa asked.

"No more than usual, no." Elnath said. "He is always a bit odd at the start of term. I do not know why."

Willa nodded, contemplating this information as she packed up her essay in her school bag.

"Why do you ask? Has something happened?" Elnath pressed.

"Nothing, no. He just… seemed different in demeanor. It alarmed me is all." Willa nodded.

"Yes, he is in general much more relaxed at Hogwarts than at home. He and my father do not get on well." Elnath admitted.

Willa climbed into her own bed and looked to Elnath, "No? General disagreements or something more?"

"More," Elnath said cautiously. "I do not know if I should share this."

"If it makes you uneasy to do so, then refrain. I merely wonder if our fathers were similar in their abuses of our brothers." Willa said. "Ciaran was often at odds with my father."

"Why did your father dislike him?" Elnath asked.

"Every reason. It was as though he did not see him as a son, but a burden that needed to be handled." Willa said, hesitating before she added, "Handled physically."

A chill ran down her as she remembered the night Ciaran stumbled into her room explaining in a slurred voice that father had used the Cruciatus Curse on him for doing magic with his wand outside of Ilvermorny. She had spent the rest of the night coaxing him to sleep. It was after that they had begun to practice the curse on each other, to prepare themselves for the next time either might have to endure it.

"You never wrote me about this." Elnath said in a whisper.

"No, he might have seen. He sometimes intercepted our letters to ensure we portrayed the Gamp family name well." Willa said. It was something she had never been able to tell anyone before, not even her friends at Ilvermorny.

"My father is not so cruel to Rigel, no. Nor to me." Elnath affirmed. "When he was younger, there was of course normal discipline, but now they will have loud quarrels and say terrible things and then my father threatens to cut him from the family and his inheritance. It would be odd for him to make good on such a threat though, as the Black line passes through Rigel now that Uncle Pollux passed away."

"True," Willa said.

"I am truly sorry to learn about your father's treatment of Ciaran, though." Elnath said, using her deceased cousin's name out loud for the first time since Willa's return to Britain. "You are always welcome at Black Manor should you need it for refuge. Aunt Dipsas, as well, of course."

Willa met her cousin's eyes with a dark intensity, "Thank you."

She then let out a loud sigh and with levity declared, "If Professor Albion does not kick me out of Muggle Studies tomorrow for my essay, that will be the most shocking thing to happen in my life so far. And you now know quite a few more shocking things about my life."

Willa laughed easily at her own comment so that Elnath would also laugh, which she did. Both glad to change the topic and the mood.

"What is the essay even about?" Elnath asked.

"Rappaport's Law." Willa rolled her eyes. "I have found the truth of the Americas is not known by Britain, and certainly not by Professor Albion. He told me I am 'a radical,' as though original thought is some extreme idea."

"For him, it probably is." Elnath giggled. "Otherwise though, are you enjoying Hogwarts as much as Ilvermorny?" Elnath asked.

"I think so."

"You seem more anxious than before." Elnath pointed out.

"I am yet to hear from my acquaintance, the one who is possibly more than a friend." Willa admitted. "I worry for him."

"Is Ilvermorny unsafe?" Elnath asked.

"He is not at Ilvermorny. He has graduated from school already." Willa said.

"An older man?" Elnath grinned. "No wonder you encourage me on Grogan."

Willa laughed and said, "No that is because you seem to truly admire him."

Elnath smiled to herself at this comment, content to dwell on the idea of it for a moment before addressing her cousin again.

"I do admire him. But for what? He pays me no interest." She said.

"You must do some of the work. Where is your Slytherin ambition, dear cousin?" Willa grinned. "Pay him a visit to ask about some magical creature."

"Pay him a visit? In the Gamekeeper's Cottage?" Elnath asked, horrified.

"Is that more shameful than kissing attached boys against the castle wall?" Willa prodded with a raised eyebrow. This earned her a smack from the Nicholas Flamel book Elnath threw. "Ow! What is this?"

Willa looked at the title, reading it aloud, " _Gems From Ashes: Alchemy for the Kings._ The kings?" she said.

"It means the Muggle royals who sent men to the Americas to find gemstones and gold. But the book is about the ways to turn carbon-based properties into diamonds. Quite fascinating concepts thus far!"

"Beyond me." Willa shrugged.

"Did you realize that Nicholas Flamel is teaching at Beauxbatons this term? He is a guest in their school, specializing in Alchemy for a select few." Elnath said. "Do not tell Clement though, for he will tell Arlo, and I do not want Arlo attempting to enter the Triwizard Tournament just to get a trip to Beauxbatons!"

"Are you planning to enter now then?" Willa asked with a small smile.

"Heavens no! I am riding on your dueling skills, dear cousin." Elnath said with a wicked grin.

"Well then, it is decided that I most certainly will win." Willa declared.

* * *

Galanta was not the owl Willa wanted to see Monday morning. The precise owl she longed for, she did not know, only that it would belong to Septimus in some way. Still, the letter Galanta dropped could only be a response from her mother. Willa gave her owl a little bit of pork chops and promised to visit her later with some mice. The poor bird looked long at sea.

"Will you read it now?" Elnath asked.

Willa ripped it open as response and gave the contents a scan. Elnath politely turned away, which Willa was grateful for once she saw over half of the response was dedicated to her inquiry about her father and Septimus' relationship. Without giving a full read, she surmised it was not a friendly one. But the words that stood out the most were:

_Wilhelmina, I caution you strongly against forming any attachment to the man._

How her mother sniffed out her intentions so quickly, she could not know. She hinted towards nothing of the sort in her initial letter. Willa quickly read the full paragraph beyond that line.

_Do not think me blind to your inclinations towards the diplomats you have been forced to entertain in the past. I know how easily you can both turn an eye and retain its gaze as well. Mr. Malfoy is not a friend to our family. He may be of benefit to the Blacks, but he has only cause to harm you. I did not mention him before as it may have been irrelevant, but now that it is, I will tell you the truth. He is the reason your father was posted indefinitely to the Americas. It was he who bore the idea into the Ministry and he who proceeded to sign the posting assignment itself. Should you find yourself with him again, your father and I forbid you to partake in any interaction beyond formalities. Mr. Malfoy is not to be trusted by a Gamp under any circumstances, however charming he might appear._

Willa reread that final line with alarm and hastily closed the letter.

"Has something happened?" Elnath asked quietly.

"Nothing has happened. My mother seeks to give me advice that I do not wish to take." Willa said.

"Advice on what?"

"Men." Willa rolled her eyes.

"The older man?" Elnath pressed in a teasing voice.

"That very one." Willa said, a blush forming.

"Well, she is not here, and she likely does not know the full story." Elnath said with confidence, even though she herself knew none of the story.

"Do you know if your mother wrote to her about me?" Willa asked.

"I am not sure. It is possible. Why do you ask?"

"Something my mother wrote about Mr. Malfoy. I do not see how she would know we interacted with him without your mother's writing to her on the topic. I did not mention it in my letter to her." Willa explained.

"What did she say about Mr. Malfoy?" Elnath asked, shocked Quintus' father would be of relevance to any commentary between her cousin and aunt.

"Not to trust him." Willa shrugged.

"Like father, like son," Elnath muttered. "But why would your mother not trust him?"

"Apparently he was the person who sent my family to the Americas." Willa said.

"I thought that was a promotion for your father?"

"As did I. But my mother did not imply it as such. More like it was a punishment for my father." Willa said. "Perhaps Braxton and I have more in common than we realized."

"Why? Because Bagshot claims falsely that Mr. Malfoy sent his mother to Azkaban?" Elnath said. "Do not think on it. Truly I believe he is jealous that he is not a Malfoy himself."

Willa leaned in with flashing eyes and whispered, "Really? Braxton wants to be kissing you that badly, huh?"

"I will throw this on you." Elnath said as she held up her cup of pumpkin juice.

Willa laughed wholeheartedly, glad for the reprieve from the words her mother felt necessary to send her.

"Truly though, Quintus told me that he and Braxton were friends as children. He and Octavia would stay with the Bagshots often while his parents traveled for their positions with Ministry. But after their mother died, they never went there again. And when we started Hogwarts, Braxton acted like they had never met before." Elnath explained.

"How odd." Willa said, then frowned to ask, "What do you mean 'their positions'? Quintus' mother worked for the Ministry as well?"

"Oh yes. Mrs. Malfoy and your father worked together in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for many years before your family moved to America. They graduated Hogwarts the same year, both top of their class." Elnath said. "Your father never told you this?"

Willa shook her head and quickly calculated that this meant Septimus' dead wife had been six years his senior.

"Strange. I wonder why your father would not tell you? Unless…" Elnath trailed off with a somewhat horrified look.

"Unless what?"

"It is not possible." Elnath shook her head. "I would never presume it."

"Say it quickly."

"You said your mother implied it was a punishment that your father was sent to the Americas." Elnath started, leaning in and speaking very quietly. "What if it was?"

"For what though?"

Elnath just looked at her. When Willa did not piece it together, Elnath finally said, "What if your father had an affair with Mrs. Malfoy?"

Willa blinked a few times. That was not possible. Septimus would never have spoken to her again after learning her parentage if that were true.

"No, it could not be." Willa said, vehemently shaking her head. "He would hate me. The sight of me would drive him mad."

Elnath was quiet a moment before saying, "You resemble your mother more than your father."

"It is not possible." Willa snapped.

Elnath nodded rapidly and said, "You are absolutely right. It was a ridiculous notion on my part. Forgive me for even suggesting such a pernicious idea."

"It is forgiven. Do not worry, cousin." Willa smiled at Elnath.

She was not angry, simply worried. What if this were true? Her poor mother. She did not even like America, and for her wretched father's infidelities to be the cause of her being sent there. For Ciaran's ultimate exposure to the Lenape tribe and Opala herself. It was all impossible. And yet she knew in her gut that her father was not a good man. If he could use the Torture Curse his own son, what more was he capable of?

Willa realized in that moment Octavia had not been dishonest when she indicated the rift between their fathers. Nor had not been lying about Catherine Avery being attached to Quintus.

"Elnath, what will you do about Octavia?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Elnath asked, startled by the seeming randomness of the question. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"I mean, she has not been lying to either of us. Perhaps she is a true friend to you?" Willa pointed out.

"How can I be her friend when her brother treats me so callously?" Elnath asked quietly.

Willa thought on this and then said, "You and I were blessed with good brothers. Perhaps she was less fortunate? She did take your side over his by sending you that warning letter this summer."

Elnath frowned.

"Think about it." Willa shrugged.

"What is the benefit?" Elnath asked.

"Power and leverage." Willa said.

As if on cue, Octavia walked past them, flanked closely by Josephina and Abigail. They all looked flawless and moved in a seamless formation, as if gliding by on ice skates. Octavia threw the pair of them a smile, so her two minions did as well, and Willa decided to speak.

"Are you trying out for quidditch?" she asked. It was the first thing she could think of.

"I am actually, but it was a secret. Who told you?" Octavia replied, her pale blue eyes more intense than her father's. Perhaps they were just colder than his were when he looked at her, Willa decided.

"No one told me. I had a feeling." Willa smiled warmly.

"Are you trying out?" Octavia asked, concern hinted in her voice.

"Definitely not." Willa laughed. "I am a terrible flyer. Also, I intend to try out for the Triwizard Tournament, so I fear I will not have time if I make it."

"Quintus plans to try out as well." Octavia nodded. "I hope that you beat him."

"I plan to beat everyone." Willa grinned. "Why bother trying if you do not aim to win, I always say."

" _You_ always say that? You did not hear it from someone?" Octavia asked pointedly.

"Oh, who knows? I have been saying it for years, anyway." Willa shrugged easily and then asked, "Why?"

"My father says that all the time. It drives me mad." Octavia said with an eye roll and then looked at directly at Elnath and asked, "How are you faring?"

Elnath nodded and said, "Quite well. There is so much to focus on this year academically."

"I am glad to hear it. Do let me know if you need anything." Octavia said. With that she turned on her heel, so Josephina and Abigail did as well, following her in unison.

Once they were well out of earshot, Elnath said to Willa with a small giggle, "I think she is going to associate you with her father from now on."

Willa felt herself blushing and her stomach flutter, so she let out a laugh to mask it and agreed wholeheartedly with her cousin as if the entire thing were some splendid joke.

Once Elnath left for class a couple minutes later, Willa opened her mother's letter again to reread the portion about Septimus. It did not sit with her any better on the second read.


	7. Broken

As Willa trudged to Advanced Muggle Studies, she remained unsure on how to interpret her mother’s advice on Septimus. Especially with the additional input from Elnath. Should she trust her and obey, or was her father’s questionable morality something to consider? Could her mother have sent her a coded message, stating “Gamp” to imply the tie to her father, while knowing full well Willa’s lineage within the Slytherin common room would be solely under Gaunt?

Furthermore, Willa pondered how she felt about Septimus having any history with her father and not disclosing it to her yet? She was willing to forgive this, she decided, as they had not been in confidence for much time at all. That begged the bigger question of whether or not they even were in confidence. Had she invented all of this flirtation in her head? Was Octavia right and she was just a pawn in Septimus’ political schemes?

Willa began to steel her emotions against Mr. Malfoy, convincing herself that he was merely another self-important, manipulative politician who meant nothing to her. It was almost going well until she entered the Muggle Studies classroom.

Professor Albion’s face was grief-stricken. Everyone else was already there and Willa hurried to her seat next to Clement.

“What is wrong?” she whispered to him.

“He has not said yet. Some alarming news just reached the Muggle newspaper, the London Times.” Clement explained. “Professor Albion is going to read us the article.”

“Before we begin, does anyone have friends or family in Paris at the moment?” Professor Albion asked.

Willa alone raised her hand.

“Muggle or wizard?” the professor asked.

“Wizard,” Willa said.

“Good. And have you had any correspondence with this person within the past week?” Professor Albion asked.

“No. Should I be concerned? I know the Prussian army was to march on Paris. Is that what this is about? Was the Revolutionary government put down?” Willa asked.

“No, it was not.” Professor Albion said. He took a long breath and then said, “Miss Gamp, I am afraid today’s class might be very troubling for you. Should you need to leave for the Infirmary at any point, please feel welcome to do so.”

Willa turned white. What did that mean?

“Was… Did… Has the French Ministry interfered?” she managed to ask.

Professor Albion shook his head and then added, “I feel confident your wizard friend or family member is safe within the confines of the unplottable areas in Paris.”

Willa nodded vaguely. She wanted to believe that, even if she knew better from her own experiences. She did not know, however, if Septimus would be confined to the unplottable areas.

“This article is very graphic, so I will censor some of it for decency’s sake. I feel it is critical for us to remain informed about the realities of the Muggle world, even if they are not for the faint of heart.” Professor Albion said to the whole class. “To summarize, a series of massacres began in Paris on Sunday night prior and continued through Thursday.”

Willa could feel Clement rest his hand on her forearm to comfort her, but she did not react.

Professor Albion began to read from the Muggle newspaper. The article was gruesome and full of horrors. It estimated over twelve thousand people had been massacred. It compared these to a rebellion from the prior month, stating the difference as “on the 10th of August, thousands died in defending their lives—but in this last massacre, there was no resistance; the unhappy victims were butchered like sheep at a slaughter house.”

The professor continued to read. The next an account of Princess de Lamballe’s death. Even with his censorship, this account of such medieval methods of torture and execution, things like quartering and disembowelment, left the entire class reeling.

As the article went on, there was no question that the aristocracy were the specific targets of this mob justice. The lack of real government was the reason for mob rule, and ultimately the cause of the massacres.

Any efforts Willa had made before to dissuade herself from her overwhelming inclinations towards Septimus proved in vain the moment Professor Albion read, “As every body the mob assassinates is called an _Aristocrate_ , it is highly dangerous for any one to express himself compassionately at what passes. He would then become himself an object of suspicion.”

Every millimeter of her skin crawled upon hearing these sentences. A panic set in. She pleaded silently to Septimus to be somewhere hidden, away from all of this. For his excessive wealth to be far, far away from the bullseye of this bloodshed. On a repeating loop in her head, she begged for his life to some unknown force.

Only when the sunshine hit her directly in the eye did Willa realize she and Clement were now in the Forbidden Forest at Care of Magical Creatures.

“How did we get here?” she whispered to Clement.

“The same way we always do. You were… in some kind of daze?” he said. “But you could walk fine, so I just guided you along. Is that all right?”

“Yes, that is fine. Thank you.” Willa said. She had no recollection of getting there, even with his explanation, but it was not the first instance in her life in which she had lost time mentally.

She looked around and realized Elnath was not near her, but rather with Group One, and to her surprise, working directly with Quintus on their project. Professor Stump stood beside them and was fielding a question from Elnath when Headmaster Hayward and the Minister of Magic himself arrived. Unctuous Osbert was a wiry, frail man with a beaklike face.

A murmur went up from the class at their arrival.

“Pardon me, Professor Stump,” Headmaster Hayward interrupted.

“Headmaster, Minister Obsert.” Professor Stump stammered with a polite nod to both men. Clearly he spent little time around people of high importance.

“I need to speak with Quintus Malfoy.” Minister Osbert said, his voice much stronger and deeper than Willa had anticipated from his physique.

“What is this about? Does my father know about this?” Quintus asked. His eyes betrayed his fear, even if the rest of him remained unflustered.

“This is about your father.” Minister Osbert said, somewhat quieter than before.

“Come, Mr. Malfoy. Your sister awaits us in my office.” Headmaster Hayward said.

Quintus turned to Elnath and said, “Come with me. Please.”

She nodded and the two followed the authority figures out of the forest.

Willa could not breathe. Clement’s hand surrounded hers and she realized he knew about her feelings for Septimus. He had pieced it together from her use of his personal name and her reaction in class today.

She felt Braxton watching them. He stood only two meters away at the edge of his group. She assumed he was angry, as always, but when she looked at him, his face bore sadness. So much sadness that it solidified in her mind Septimus was dead. It was at that moment when Willa fainted.

When she came to she could still smell the forest, but felt herself being carried. She expected Clement’s face when she blinked open her eyes, but found Braxton instead. He looked ahead with a stoic gravity that reminded her of Ciaran’s expression the day he told her he was leaving home for good and asked her to come with him.

“I should have gone with him.” Willa said now.

“With who?” Braxton asked, not looking at her still.

“Ciaran. If I had gone with him then, we would not have moved to Ohio. That night would not have happened.” She said.

Finally Braxton looked at her. His eyes full of scrutiny. He continued walking, a steady ease to his gait, as though she weighed nothing at all in his arms.

“You are ill. You should not speak.” He said.

“You remind me of him even though you look nothing like he did. Every day it is a little more than the last.” She admitted as this realization dawned on her for the first time.

To her surprise Braxton nodded and said, “You remind me of Bethany. Each time I see you, my heart breaks again.”

“I am sorry.” Willa said softly, even though she could do nothing to change this.

“Me too,” Braxton said, equally earnest.

She felt his grip tighten around her a slight amount and closed her eyes, content to be carried by him in silence.

* * *

Willa realized she must have passed out again because the next time she opened her eyes she was in a bed at the Infirmary. She tried to sit up, but a strong hand stopped her. The face of its owner came into view, a smile shown on it. Rigel.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.” She said. She felt fine.

“You gave us a scare.” Clement said, leaning into view next to Rigel. He wore a smile as well and Willa found herself smiling back at him.

“Where is Braxton?” she asked.

“He left quite a while ago. You have been out for some time.” Clement explained.

“How long?”

“Six hours.” Clement said.

Willa tried to comprehend that, but she could not. It was a long time to be asleep.

“Where is Elnath?” she asked.

“With Octavia and Quintus,” Rigel said quietly. “I will go get her.”

As Rigel stood, Willa nodded and said, “Thank you.”

Once he was gone, she looked at Clement and asked, “Are we alone?”

“Yes.” He said, then threw a look around to ensure they in fact were. He nodded to confirm.

“You cannot tell anyone, especially not Rigel.” Willa said, then added, “Not that there is anything to tell. But you cannot, understood?”

“Why would I tell anyone?” he frowned, knowing that she referenced Mr. Malfoy and whatever relationship they might have.

“No, especially not now. That is certainly fair.” Willa conceded.

“What do you mean, ‘not now’?”

“Now that he is dead.” Willa said bluntly.

Clement shook his head and said, “No, he is not. The news was that he is missing. No one has seen him since Sunday afternoon.”

“The Minister said this?” Willa asked, hopeful.

“Yes. According to Rigel, who heard it from Elnath, who was there for the entire thing to support Quintus.” Clement added with a sly smile, “Can you explain that last part? I thought they were no longer together?”

“I daresay I cannot.” Willa laughed.

A clacking on the floor indicated someone was coming and Clement leaned in to say, “Feel better.”

Willa nodded and he stood to leave.

“Elnath,” Clement said with a curt nod.

“Clement,” she nodded back, her tone indifferent.

Elnath filled the seat Rigel had sat in before and held her cousin’s hands.

“How are you? I feel so terrible having left you there.” She said.

“Do not think on it. I am merely embarrassed for having any drama when real problems are happening.” Willa said. She looked at Elnath and asked, “How do Quintus and Octavia fare? Rigel and Clement explained Mr. Malfoy is missing.”

Elnath shook her head and Willa noticed her cousin had been crying.

“They are not well. Nothing can console Octavia, and Quintus has become very withdrawn.” Elnath reported. “To be frank, I am glad for reprieve from the common room.”

“Well, I am happy my fainting has helped someone.” Willa teased.

“Clement said you had a friend in Paris. Is it your friend from America?” Elnath pressed.

“Yes. Yes, that is why I was so upset.” Willa explained embracing the partial lie Clement had somehow invented for her. “He was meant to be posted in Paris starting in late August, but I have not heard from him since leaving America.”

“I am sure he is safe if he is within the confines of _le Ministère_ and _Rue des Balais_.” Elnath said, referencing the Parisian equivalent to Diagon Alley.

Willa nodded and said, “I hope so.”

They sat in silence for a minute or two before Willa looked at her cousin with a grin, “So, Quintus needed you with him, huh?”

Elnath blushed.

After a moment she said, “Well, he has known me for a long time.”

“My advice is to stay away from him after this is over.” Willa said.

“You think they will find Mr. Malfoy then?” Elnath asked with earnest.

“He has to be alive somewhere.” Willa said then looked away at the ceiling and added, “I have to believe that.”

Before Elnath could respond, footsteps fell on the tile floor causing her to turn and see who was coming. Her posture straightened and she immediately turned towards Willa to pinch her cheeks so they would have some color. Willa managed to sit up to see who caused her cousin such a desire to look presentable. It was Grogan Stump, looking young enough as he crossed the long room to be called by a personal name rather than ‘professor.’

“Hello, professor.” Willa said to him once he arrived at her bed.

“Miss Gamp,” he said with a nod before giving her cousin a nod as he said, “Elna—er, Miss Black.”

Elnath blushed and nodded back, saying, “Sir.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly and then looked back to Willa.

“Mr. Black informed me you were awake, so I came to return this to you, Miss Gamp.” He said, holding out the letter from her mother. Willa took it from him as he explained, “It fell from your robes when Mr. Bagshot lifted you off the ground.”

“Thank you, sir.” She said, then silently cast legilimency on him and asked, “Did you read it?”

“Well, I—” he started, then changed tone and said, “No. Of course not.”

She saw he was telling the truth, but his thoughts were mostly distracted by Elnath’s proximity. She decided to play with it.

“Forgive me, but has anyone told you before you are a bad liar?” Willa asked him.

“Wilhelmina!” Elnath gasped reproachfully. “He would not lie to you.”

Willa fought a grin as Professor Stump swallowed hard, excited by Elnath’s immediate defense of his integrity.

“I am not lying.” He said.

“Are you certain? Because you display all the signs of it. You seem quite flustered.” She looked at Elnath and then inquired to him, “If you are not lying, then I wonder what causes you such agitation?”

Elnath glared at her, but Willa kept her expression one of innocence. Grogan’s thoughts, on the other hand, portrayed little innocence at all as they all homed in on the subject of Elnath. On how she smelled pleasantly sweet like berries; on how beautiful her skin looked in the late day’s sunlight; on how that same skin might feel to his fingers’ touch.

Willa felt quite satisfied he was as attracted to her cousin as she was to him.

“I am not flustered. I do however need to return to my cottage before the sun sets.” He said, his thoughts now turning towards some of the more dangerous nocturnal creatures that lived in the forest.

“Elnath, would you mind going as well? I feel tired.” Willa said, finally stopping her legilimency.

Elnath needed no further prodding, though she continued to blush as she came to understand her cousin’s ploy. She stood and gave Willa’s hand a small squeeze.

“Do feel better.” She said to her.

Grogan waited to walk out with her, starting to address the question Elnath had asked him in class right as the Minister and Headmaster had arrived. Willa smiled to herself and closed her eyes, though she was far from tired.

* * *

The days to follow passed with a sense of anxiety that slowly crept towards dread. On Wednesday, Professor Albion relayed the latest article from the London Times, which described further atrocities as well as details around the imprisonment of the French king, queen, and their children. The article brought little in way of comfort to any of the students, least of all Willa. Out of respect for the anxieties of the week, Professor Albion canceled that week’s essay assignment.

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, an owl came from Paris for the Malfoy children. The letter from their father was brief, but conclusive. He was alive and had been hiding with his friend Vincent Saint-Just in his residence, which was an unplottable _hôtel particulier_ in the formerly fashionable Muggle neighborhood, _Le Marais_.

The emotion in the Slytherin common room that night was one of silent relief, as though a weight had been lifted from all its members. Willa, for her part, was elated to learn Septimus was alive, but still worried for him. There were questions no one was asking that seemed obvious to her: Why would he have not apparated out of Paris by now? Why had he been with Vincent and not at the embassy or with the Minister himself? What had happened with _le_ _Ministère_? But most important to her, how was Septimus handling all of this? Was this Vincent Saint-Just enough support for him or was he feeling very alone in a foreign city’s bloodied battlefield?

Friday at breakfast she received an owl from Paris as well. This time the letter was much thicker, written in a hand that did not match Mr. Malfoy’s, and sealed with a symbol of the pimpernel flower in a vivid red wax.

“Is it from your acquaintance?” Elnath asked her.

“I believe so.” Willa replied, unable to mask her excitement.

“Well, go on, open it!” Elnath urged.

“No, I wish to wait until later. I now know he is alive, therefore I can be content to wait until classes are finished and I can truly savor the read.” Willa replied.

Elnath nodded despite her disappointment. The mystery behind this acquaintance was starting to test her patience.

“Care of Magical Creatures today.” Willa said with a grin after tucking the letter into her bosom, close to her heart. She would not risk losing this letter after having so easily dropping her mother’s on Monday.

“Again, nothing happened.” Elnath protested.

They were referencing Monday night, when Elnath accidentally walked with Grogan all the way to the castle courtyard lost in conversation, and he was forced to remind her she should be inside the castle after dark.

“Yes, nothing happened in the tranquil beauty of sunset, of course.” Willa teased. “I saw what he was thinking. I know how he cares for you.”

“You saw?!That is so inappropriate! And possibly illegal.” Elnath protested.

“It is not illegal to use legilimency.” Willa clarified.

“Still,” Elnath said then leaned in and asked, “What did you see, exactly?”

“That he admires you, but hesitates to allow himself to feel anything for you because you are his student.” Willa shrugged.

Elnath nodded, glancing at the faculty table to take Grogan in for a moment before turning back to Willa to ask, “Can you teach me how to do it?”

Willa broke into a wide grin, “I thought you would never ask.”

They set up an agreement of legilimency lessons and times for said lessons, all to take place in their dormitory, and Elnath giggled with excitement.

“Think of all I can know!” she said.

“It is a world you will regret entering, I promise you that. But it is useful.” Willa said.

Despite the warnings, Elnath was all smiles. Her thoughts on Quintus and discovering his true feelings for her and for Catherine.

* * *

After dinner, in the privacy of the common room’s alcove, Willa broke the red wax seal of the pimpernel flower. The text was a heap of gibberish, so she looked to the signature and found it signed by Percival. Satisfied it was from Septimus, she flipped back to the beginning and the letters began to rearrange themselves into English. As he promised, it was enchanted to only be legible in her touch. She noticed the date had been crossed out and rewritten. The original date was September 8, 1792, and the new date September 12. He had finished it on Wednesday, though started it the Saturday prior, well before she had learned of the massacres. She began to read the contents of the letter:

> Dear Wilhelmina,
> 
> That I could bring you good news is an impossible task. I delayed in writing you because I did not wish my first letter to convey such darkness, such horrors that I have borne witness to here in Paris. I pray you have not seen the Muggles’ _London Times_ , for the reports it bears are accurate, and the full truth is more despicable than any person should know exists in this fragile sphere we call home.
> 
> We both know it is too early to divulge my truths in you, but I am without consolation here as the Wizarding community refuses to act in fear of breaching the Statute of Secrecy. Therefore, I must apologize for the stark intimacy of the remainder of my letter.
> 
> I am broken. I do not know how else to convey it. My faith in humanity is shattered beyond repair. I witnessed men forced to eat other men. I do not know how to continue in such a world. Every noble truth I held dear, every respect I placed in mankind, it is vanished. The events of the last week in Paris have robbed me of hope. What can we do in the face of such emboldened evil? That hate might course so fiercely through one’s veins, to overcome their entire sense of dignity and righteousness, I cannot convey how horrific it is.
> 
> The deaths are in the tens of thousands. All innocents. The mobs killing at will and without reason or mercy or justice. Women and children alike. No person here is safe. Even those who fought alongside the Revolutionaries lay fallen to the Jacobin blade. Irrational sickness has fallen this city. I know not how to process such actions. It is a betrayal to our very existence as humans.
> 
> You may think me a purist from my blood and lineage, but it is not so. I see no difference in magical and Muggle blood. The blood spilled here aches in me as it would in the Magical communities.
> 
> My soul is separated from this world now; it knows not how to belong to such wretchedness. Every devil dwells now in Paris. The demons dance in the streets on piles of bodies. Forgive me, Wilhelmina. I do not wish to trouble you. I am so lost. I wish I never came here to witness this. That I had stayed alongside you at Hogwarts. I know it is not to be, but I long for the safety of those halls, of the Slytherin common room and the green light into the Great Lake. I long for the floating candles and the moving staircases. So confusing at the time, yet so comforting now.
> 
> I wonder if I could beg your favor to send something beautiful in return? I have pictured your face every night to calm my anxieties but sleep rarely comes. No fault of your beauty, be certain. Just a vision of you helps me feel alive again. It can only last a moment though. I thought I had witnessed the worst I could prior to this moment, but I was wholly mistaken. I confess that I fear I may never recover. I do not wish to burden you with this heaviness. It is unlike anything I have known, and you are the only one I trust.
> 
> All the remaining pieces of my soul,
> 
> Percival

Willa regretted reading the letter in the common room and fled from it, tears already forming. She burst into Salazar’s Study and immediately recognized she had intruded on an intimate moment. Rigel and Clement did not notice her though, as they were too involved with one another to do so. She swallowed her tears as she took in the scene—Rigel gripping the desk with his trousers undone, Clement’s hand down the front of them, their lips heatedly upon each other’s.

Both boys’ actions over the past couple of weeks suddenly made sense and she gasped quietly as everything clicked. This was enough noise to make Rigel turn and see she was there.

“Excuse me.” Willa said hastily, backing up to the door and averting her eyes.

Clement turned away from her at the sound of her voice.

“Wait,” Rigel said, closing his trousers.

Willa paused.

“You cannot tell Elnath.” Rigel said. “She will feel compelled to tell my mother, who will have to tell my father. And he will disinherit me, or worse.”

“I will not tell anyone.” Willa promised. “I only wished to find somewhere private to be alone.”

“You should try the Room of Requirement.” Rigel said.

“Where is that?”

“The seventh floor, on the opposite end from Gryffindor Tower.” Clement said, finally facing her. “Across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet. You simply walk past the wall there three times while thinking of what you require, and the door will appear.”

“Thank you. And again, I apologize for the intrusion. Though I believe you underestimate Elnath’s allegiance to you.” Willa said.

Rigel shook his head and said, “Would you risk it, if you were in my position?”

Willa shared a look with Clement, who knew her secret; a secret she had not entrusted to Elnath. She turned back to Rigel and said, “No, I would not.”

There was a moment of silent understanding between the three of them.

“Forgive me for taking up so much of your time.” She said with a small bow before she left the chamber.

As Willa made her way to the seventh floor, she could not help but fall into laughter. Any concern lingering in the back of her mind that either boy held affections for her was of no consequence. Clement merely had been plotting her help in obtaining access to Rigel all along. She let out a giggle as she thought to ask him if he was certain he was not a Slytherin with such cunning.

She reached the seventh-floor corridor, found the silly tapestry in question, and began to think of her requirements. A quiet place where she could produce something beautiful to make up for the ugliness in the world. To her delight, a door appeared in the wall on her third pass.

She pushed it open to find a cozy space with different seating options. Settling into a plush chair, she opened Septimus’ letter again to reread it. Midway through, she heard the sound of a melancholy song being played on a piano. Alarmed and confused that she was not alone, she cast a Disillusionment charm on herself and listened. The music came from inside the room, but through a door that she had not seen upon first entering. She stood to investigate who else shared her precise requirements.

Silent and hidden, she entered the adjacent room. In it stood a grand piano and little else. The piano appeared to be playing itself except for the occasional sliver of a finger stroking a black key.

_Curious._ Willa thought, approaching the piano bench. It was large enough for two people. She closed her eyes and focused her sense of touch, trying to feel for body heat. Eventually she recognized it and sat in the cooler air beside whoever was there on the piano bench.

The person continued to play, either unaware of her camouflaged presence or ignoring her. As she listened, she began to compose an accompaniment to the piece in her head. Suddenly the music stopped with a frustrated bang on the keys.

“It is not right. It still lacks something.” A male voice groaned. Willa knew it in an instant. It was Braxton.

He drew a deep breath and began again. At the second lull of the song, Willa began to play her accompaniment. Braxton let out a gasp, but continued to play his piece. They worked through the song, Willa trying very hard to support him and not overshadow his parts. Finally the natural closing notes were touched by Braxton and she could hear him sigh contentedly.

She debated to reveal herself until he said clearly, “Thank you. This castle will never cease to amaze me.” He spoke to the piano itself, as if the instrument had produced such ingenuity. Willa said nothing. Braxton’s small relief was exactly what she needed to feel a sense of calm.

He stood and pulled off what she surmised was an invisibility cloak, despite never having seen one before. Someone at Ilvermorny her third year was rumored to have one, so she knew of the magical item’s existence. While Braxton folded the cloak neatly, she took in his features. He had been crying, and intensely from the puffiness of his eyes. She felt compelled to go to him and hold him, as if it were the only logical thing to do. But she refrained, certain he wished to be alone. He slapped his face a couple times to return color to it, then gave himself a pep talk.

“Another day done, Braxton.” He said. “You can make it to the next one. Come on, come on.”

Willa felt the hot liquid of her tears dripping down her face. She knew this pain. She knew this struggle. One day at a time.

Braxton took three deep breaths and then forced himself to laugh. It sounded hollow and he yelled at himself, “Do better!”

He laughed again, this time felt more genuine. From that laugh he rolled into easy quips, using Arlo’s and Clement’s names as he did. Willa felt her heart breaking as she was forced to witness him practice being human because he could no longer remember how. It was too familiar. Something she had been through a year ago at Ilvermorny. Once the initial grief of Ciaran’s death wore off. Once everyone else had moved on.

Finally Braxton left. She waited to hear the outer door close before she allowed herself to truly cry. The sobs came heavy, and the piano bench proved insufficient to support her emotions, so she slunk to the ground. Her back against the piano leg and her chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs. Her mind was a blur, fuzzy with grief and terror and guilt. She longed to comfort both Braxton and Septimus. As she was overcome with emotion, her ability to maintain her Disillusionment spell was lost and the charm faded away.

Broken.

It seemed the only word that could encompass this moment.

Eventually her tears stopped and she became aware of how uncomfortable her position was. She stood and moved back to the sitting room, finding a writing desk stood there now. She found it equipped with parchment, quill, and ink, and she slid into the chair to begin her response to Septimus. Instead she found herself drawing the lines to create sheet music and then transcribing the song she and Braxton had composed that night.

When she finished the final markings, she determined this would become part of her response to Septimus. She would build out a small portfolio of music and sketches of what he longed for in the castle to send him alongside her words. Finally, she started her letter to him. It was more forthcoming than she initially felt it could be, but his letter’s vulnerability assured her it was appropriate. Thirty minutes later she signed it “Truly yours, Willa.”

* * *

**A/N: The articles Professor Albion reads from the London Times are actual articles from September 10, 1792 and Sept 12, 1792. They were transcribed to the internet in February 2000 by a member of the University of California - Santa Barbara English Department. You can find it easily by searching for “Paris massacres London Times 1792.” Both are very graphic. I edited down almost all of the graphic elements from the actual articles for inclusion here.**

**The London Times started publication in 1785 under the name _The Daily Universal Registrar_ and changed to its current name in 1788. For reference, _The Daily Prophet_ has been in publication since at least 1743.**


	8. Threats, Duels, and Promises

The air was crisp and the sun shone bright on the Quidditch Pitch early Saturday afternoon. Septimus’ letter had given Willa a fresh outlook on Hogwarts, and she was determined to sketch every part of the school and its grounds for him. So, at lunch when Rigel announced he was going to watch Quidditch trials to fulfil his Head Boy duties of school unity or the like, she gladly offered to come with him. Elnath had gone to meet Professor Hipworth for a private lesson on brewing a complicated potion she had read about in one of Flamel’s books.

All the houses were out on the pitch, and Rigel and Willa were far from the only spectators in the stands. Willa had only ever been to one Quidditch match at Ilvermorny, neither she nor Ciaran being keen flyers or caring much for the sport. Game days always left the rest of the school in a peaceful quiet, perfect for studying or practicing spells. But being here now, even just for trials, the air was buzzing with excitement and Willa could not help but feel lighthearted as she unbound the leather case protecting her sketch parchment and charcoal kit.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were going to sketch this!” Rigel laughed.

“Not at all. It is too beautiful a day not to capture.” She protested.

“It is beautiful today.” He said, observing the players.

Willa knew he was really there to observe one player in particular. Clement flew by them at that moment and smiled in their direction. Both waved back at him.

“How long has Clement played Seeker?” she asked.

“Two years. He and Arlo Potter made the team fourth year.” Rigel said. “Arlo is a Chaser.”

“What about Braxton? Is he not their main Chaser?” she asked.

“He made the team as a first year, but as a Beater. Now he is their main Chaser. His flying skills are really unsurpassed.” Rigel said.

“Where is he?” she asked, squinting to see if he was across the pitch. The jerseys far away were all dark blue and green though, not Gryffindor colors. She did catch sight of Professor Stump though, who wore a sky blue Tutshill Tornados jersey, despite being the referee. It was only trials, she realized.

“I am unsure where Braxton is.” Rigel frowned. “Maybe they told him he did not need to help with trials. They only have one open spot anyway.”

“Why are you Slytherins so obsessed with the Gryffindor Quidditch team?” Braxton said loudly as he slid into the seat next to Rigel. He wore a casual jacket, not his Quidditch attire, and pulled a packed tobacco pipe out of his breast pocket.

“Braxton?! Why are you not out there?” Rigel asked him, shocked.

“I am not playing this year.” He shrugged, placing the pipe between his lips and pulling out his wand to cast, “ _Incendio_ ,” to light it.

He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke away from them.

“Why not?” Willa asked him.

He looked at her intently, taking another drag from the pipe and shrugged again.

“But you are the top scoring Chaser in the school.” She protested.

“Who said that? Rigel?” Braxton laughed.

“No, Gerbold Ollivander.” She said. This caused both boys to look at her questioningly, so she explained, “When I got my new wand.”

“Why would he mention me?” Braxton asked.

“Oh, um, your wand.” She said lamely, realizing she had told no one this information before.

Braxton looked at his wand and back to her, “What about it?”

“Our wands are siblings.” She said hastily.

“Unicorn mane core?” he asked doubtfully. It was an incredibly rare core.

“Yes,” she said.

“I do not believe you.” He shrugged.

“Fine. Let us hope you do not have to duel me during the Triwizard Tournament trials then.” She said easily.

“What makes you assume I will try out?” Braxton asked and relit his pipe.

“Hm, let me think… You are not playing Quidditch, you did not want to help Professor Stump with the thestrals, and Professor Albion seemed genuinely confused you were not present at Muggle Music’s first session this Wednesday. If I did not know any better, I would imagine you intend to escape to Beauxbatons and avoid all of your friends and interests for the year to better support your brooding depression.” She said pointedly before adding, “Also, I saw your name on the sign-up list.”

Braxton let out a rich laugh, one that sounded different than either he had produced last night in the Room of Requirement, and said, “For someone who was so concerned for her male friend in Paris that she fainted during class just five days ago, you seem rather observant of _my_ behavior.”

“Blame it on our wands.” Willa smirked.

“Do I need to call over Grogan to referee this, or are you two done?” Rigel asked finally.

“Actually, Rigel, I came here specifically to tell you something incredibly important.” Braxton said. He put his arm around Rigel’s shoulder and pulled him so close to his face that Rigel was forced to remove the pipe from Braxton’s mouth so it would not burn him. Braxton whispered something in Rigel’s ear, which caused Rigel to lose his color momentarily before breaking into a full smile.

“I would expect nothing less.” Rigel said to Braxton, still beaming.

“Good man.” Braxton said, clapping him on the back. With that, Braxton stood as if to go.

“You want this?” Rigel asked holding up the pipe to him.

“No, keep it. I nicked it off that Greengrass boy, so it is technically Slytherin goods.” He shrugged. “Besides, I do not smoke.”

Rigel dumped out the remaining tobacco from the pipe without a word, but Willa was not letting it go.

“You just were smoking?” she pointed out.

“Yes, that was my first time, and now I have decided to quit.” Braxton explained.

Intrigued with his sudden confidence and recklessness, an absolute departure from the boy she witnessed last night, Willa silently cast legilimency on Braxton. She was not sure what to look for but found his mind a busy mess of constant and conflicting emotions. The competitive part of her wanted to see if he would detect her and cast occlumency.

He stood aloof, watching the Quidditch players and mentally coaching their form. She waited for him to detect her, but he never seemed to. Only when she removed the spell did he look directly at her and give her a wink before saying, “See you at trials, Willa.”

He squeezed Rigel’s shoulder once and then turned to climb the stands to the stairwell exit. Willa watched him go, but Rigel was focused on the Quidditch.

“You and your mutual friend need to keep an eye on him.” Willa said to her cousin. “He is on a dangerous path to self-destruction.”

“I know.” Rigel said without emotion.

She looked at him and he met her gaze, giving her a forlorn smile to try and comfort her.

“I thought you said he hated you?” Rigel then asked in a more cheerful tone.

“I thought he did.” She shrugged.

“Well, he sure was not acting like it just now.” Rigel teased.

“You are the one he nearly kissed. What did he say to you anyway?” she asked. Nothing in Braxton’s head suggested he had romantic feelings towards her, or Rigel for that matter. Of course, if he had known she was in there all along, he could have been purposefully throwing her off reading anything. She would have to be more cautious around him.

“Oh, he just wanted to let me know that if I hurt his best friend, he will first torture me until I beg him for death, and then he will kill me both slowly and painfully.” Rigel said, smiling broadly again, his eyes on Clement. “As if I could ever hurt someone so precious.”

Willa smiled at this, her cousin’s intense infatuation making her feel excited about life again. She looked at her blank sketchbook and then grabbed a piece of charcoal and began to sketch Rigel’s expression. He did not notice until she was nearly done, and as he went to protest her drawing him, he instead remarked, “You are rather talented.”

“Thanks,” Willa smiled. “Years and years of practice more than talent though.”

“Can you do magical sketches?” he asked.

“Yes, I am going to do one of the Quidditch trials.” She looked at the pitch to determine what Septimus would most appreciate before stating, “Maybe Octavia.”

“I am surprised she is out here after the week she had.” Rigel commented.

“Oh, I am not.” Willa said, starting her sketch. “She seems pretty intent on becoming to main Malfoy on campus.”

“So, we do not like Quintus now?” Rigel asked.

Willa smiled, not taking her eyes off Octavia as she responded, “I never did. But I do not think he is good for Elnath’s health.”

“Poor Mr. Malfoy.” Rigel lamented.

“How do you mean?” Willa asked, finally breaking her concentration to look at Rigel.

“He has to turn Quintus into a man somehow.” He shrugged. “Seems a tall task.”

“Here I was thinking there are plenty of men who treat women callously and nobody notices.” Willa rolled her eyes. “Anyway, he too is trying out for the Triwizard Tournament, so maybe that will turn him around.”

“Perhaps.” Rigel said thoughtfully. Willa went back to her sketch and Rigel asked, “Do you think you can beat Braxton?”

“At a duel?” Willa clarified.

“Yes,”

“I guess we will find out.” She smiled. If Braxton was planning to use legilimency in the competition, then they would both likely be the last two standing. She did not mention this to Rigel though, as she was unsure what the rules around using the spell would be, if any.

An eruption of screams caused them both to look at the pitch with alarm, finding that Octavia had somehow fallen off her broomstick. Without hesitation, Willa’s wand was out as she gave the incantation, “ _Arresto Momentum_!” her drawing kit falling off her lap into the bleachers in her haste.

She felt her wand grow warm in her hand, as if surging with energy, but in a pleasant way, like the energy flowed into her, making her more powerful. She had never experienced this before. Octavia’s fall slowed to a delicate descent, and she was able to regain control of herself sufficiently to land on her feet.

Professor Stump was in shock, his wand nowhere in sight. He looked to the ground, not at Willa, so she followed his gaze downward to find Braxton with his wand out. He sheathed it quickly while cocking his head at Octavia’s graceful landing, and then stretched out his wand hand as though it felt different than normal. He shook his head and turned to leave the pitch.

“Braxton, wait!” Octavia called, running towards him.

Though he was out of her eyesight, Willa knew Braxton did not turn or slow because Octavia stopped in her tracks and steeled her expression to haughty indifference.

“Are you all right?” Rigel asked Willa.

She jumped, forgetting Rigel was there, or that anyone was there. She managed to nod and say, “Yes, fine,” but all she could think about was what just happened between her and Braxton’s wands.

* * *

Professor Llewellyn, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, set the brackets for the Triwizard Tournament trials’ duels on the next Friday after dinner, after all entrants underwent a French fluency test with Professor Albion that week. The tests weeded out five entrants, so only an even sixteen remained.

Professor Albion still had not exactly warmed to Willa, but he was at least quite interested in her French pronunciation, as it was heavily Creole and rather distinct from the academic French he knew. She worried he would not deem her fluent enough to participate, but on the contrary, he told her that she was the most fluent student except for Catherine Avery (whose mother was indeed a French emigrant). This was the first Willa had heard of Catherine entering and she wondered if Elnath knew.

The first duels were on Saturday afternoon, starting with the opposite side of the bracket. Braxton went first, which Willa had been eager to watch, but the duel was cut short when his opponent, a Hufflepuff whom Willa did not know, committed a foul and was disqualified. Next were two Ravenclaw seventh years who were both fairly skilled. Their duel lasted a good half hour in length and drew a large crowd. Eventually one of them fell victim to the Full-Body Binding curse after letting down her guard for a moment. Braxton would have a difficult second round.

Quintus went next against a Gryffindor seventh year named John Heptig whom Elnath disliked greatly and made as much clear to Octavia, who did not disagree. The Slytherins cheered rather loudly for Quintus, including Willa, who did not really wish to see him win because she hoped to put the distance of mainland Europe between him and her cousin. But Quintus won in an exciting fashion, and even the Hufflepuffs were cheering him on by the end of it.

Their cheers quickly turned against Slytherin however when the Head Girl took on Abigail Greengrass, who seemed most concerned with how attractive she looked on the dueling platform. Rigel fought back a laugh at this mismatch, and his amusement was rewarded when Bridgette McGregor disarmed Abigail in only one move. The day ended thusly, Abigail red with shame scurrying out of the Great Hall with Octavia and Josephina reassuring her that Beauxbatons was a horrible school anyway and she was much better off at Hogwarts for the full year.

The other half of the bracket was set for Sunday, and Willa was to go first against Wentworth Diggory from Ravenclaw. He was a seventh year and smart as a whip according to Rigel. She wondered if that meant he knew occlumency or not. It was unlikely, as Elnath so far proved terrible in their first legilimency lessons.

Willa confirmed he was Eldritch Diggory’s grandson; Eldritch being the Minister of Magic who unsuccessfully tried to reform Azkaban earlier that century, just before the Goblin Rebellion in the late forties. His goal had been to rid the prison of the Dementor guards, but, like a cockatrice or basilisk, there was no real way to control a dementor. Willa’s knowledge of dementors themselves was very limited. Her father used to threaten to send them on her and Ciaran whenever they misbehaved, but obviously had no way to actually carry through with it. All she knew was that they fed off human’s souls and she had no desire to meet one.

Her cousins both wished her good luck, and Rigel helped her climb onto the dueling platform. As she did, Willa silently cast legilimency on Wentworth and found his mind incredibly focused and, fortunately, rather easy to read. His clarity of thought was so abnormal that Willa had to remind herself to focus on her outwardly actions as Professor Llewellyn initiated the starting formalities and confirmed consent of the rules from both opponents. The rules were straightforward: to win you must render opponent unconscious or unable to attack, but no serious injuries or attacks were permissible.

She saw Wentworth planned to disarm her on the first move, the way Bridgette had done to Abigail yesterday. This meant she would have to beat him to the defensive move with an attack or block it with a shield.

They bowed, turned, walked their ten paces and Willa whipped around waiting a split second for Wentworth to cast “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” so she could cast “ _Protego!_ ” followed immediately by a powerful “ _Stupefy!_ ” Wentworth could not dodge in time and fell backwards, unconscious from her Stunning spell. The entire crowd gasped. She quickly cast “ _Arresto Momentum_!” to slow his fall.

Professor Llewellyn declared Willa the winner, immediately met by Slytherin’s loud cheers, and eyed her warily a moment before walking to check on Wentworth. It was technically against the rules to cast after winning a duel, however she had cast a protection spell, and he knew Headmaster Hayward would agree this was within bounds. He was impressed with her skill and wondered why she did not speak up more in his class.

“That was incredible!” Rigel exclaimed, helping her down from the platform.

“You were amazing!” Elnath chimed enthusiastically.

“Well done!” Octavia cried to her.

“Does Ilvermorny practice duels every day?” another Slytherin asked with a laugh.

The congratulations continued until the next duel was set to begin and Willa hushed everyone so she could watch her potential next opponents. They were Hufflepuff Georgiana Winks and Gryffindor Edmund Pike.

Their duel did not last long, however, because only moments after they turned from their ten paces, Sir Nicolas and the Bloody Baron appeared right in the middle of the dueling platform engaged in a heated discourse. The argument seemed to be over the precise boundaries of the dungeons, but their appearance startled Edmund so much that he could not block the Stunning spell Georgiana had sent his way the exact second the ghosts appeared.

Both ghosts paused to look between the two duelers, one now stunned and lying on the platform, and Sir Nicolas remarked, “How foolish. Do they not realize you cannot stun a ghost?” The Bloody Baron nodded, his usual solemn look returning to his gaunt face as he replied, “How very true, Sir Nicolas.”

With that they departed the Great Hall, seemingly having forgotten their prior argument.

Georgiana Winks, looking nearly like she had been hit by the Stunning spell herself, was declared the winner by Professor Llewellyn. The crowd laughed and cheered in the confusion as the next opponents took their places.

Willa wanted to pay attention, but Sir Nicolas’ words distracted her. If ghosts could not be stunned, then exactly what had Septimus used the Stupefy spell on behind the tapestry-clad door in the hidden wing of Malfoy Manor?

Her concerns were interrupted by Elnath’s disgust at Catherine Avery being the final opponent of the day.

“Does she seriously think she has what it takes to be a Triwizard Champion?” Elnath scoffed as the Ravenclaw sixth year took her place on the platform against Marion Bulstrode.

Every Slytherin except Quintus cheered for Marion, but it was soon proven to be in vain. Catherine was a ruthless opponent, winning with intensity rather than finesse, and Willa found herself glad to not have the potential of facing her until the semi-finals. At that point, both of them would already be qualified to go to Beauxbatons and enter their names in the Goblet of Fire. As it stood, Willa felt confident she would make it to the semi-finals in her bracket. Georgiana Winks did not scare her.

* * *

The day was only improved by the late arrival of Percival’s owl, who seemed in better spirits than her previous visit. She dropped a letter nearly ten times thicker than the prior one and shook away Willa’s offer of food before flying off into the late afternoon sky. After a meaningful exchange of looks with Elnath, Willa hurriedly climbed to the seventh floor so she could read her new letter from Septimus in the privacy of the Room of Requirement. She had been several times now and knew which were the vanishing steps on the staircase between floors five and seven (there was no floor six on this side of the castle). She had not again encountered Braxton inside the room, and she wondered if he was starting to heal.

The door appeared as usual and she pushed her way in. The comfortable room was empty and she stretched out on the sofa, carefully peeling apart the red wax and parchment. The letter quickly rearranged into English and she began to read:

> My Dearest Willa,
> 
> First, I must thank you for the small portfolio you have sent me. It has far exceeded any expectations I held and brought me much joy in such a dark time. You capture the Gothic atmosphere so well, it transports me back to Hogwarts’ grounds, far from the Grecian architecture of Paris. The subtlety of how you mimicked the wind in the trees over the Great Lake was such perfection I had to look more than once to notice it was not drawn in the Muggle fashion. Perhaps you will persuade me to the movement of Romanticism yet.
> 
> I am happy to report that I am returned to England. I have taken up residence in my Grosvenor Street domicile in London for the time being. Being inside a city not at war with itself has done wonders for my nerves. What with your kind letter and thoughtful artwork, and the cleanliness of Grosvenor Square’s residential gardens, I am beginning to feel myself again.
> 
> Your letter included several important questions, all of which I will attempt to answer as fully as I can in written form. In doing so, I admit this letter may become quite lengthy.
> 
> Regarding your father, I fear I do owe you an explanation and it is well possible you will cease all intercourse with me after I give it. But it is my intention to always remain honest with you, so I will venture that risk. Based on the manner in which you relayed the question, I believe you to know little on the subject, so I will attempt to convey most of the story that I am privy to share. I should warn you this information may come as a shock.
> 
> To answer your exact question, no, I did not send your father (and his family, consequently) to America. I did, however, ban him from England, Scotland, and Wales on pain of death, and I found a position in America for him as a solution to his sudden need for employment. He was banned on account of treason for breaching the Statute of Secrecy. The full story I will have to convey in person, as it is too confidential to include in writing and required a fair amount of obliviation. Very few in the wizarding community were privy to retaining memory of the incident, which is lucky for your family’s reputation and mine, as my wife, Lila, was involved in many of Ardan’s plots. You should know that initially he was sentenced to death and it was I who pardoned him and put into motion the ban in the stead of his execution. While this may make me appear merciful, I must admit to you, Willa, that I in fact loathe Ardan Gamp on accounts of his disdain for Muggles and his mistreatment and disrespect of my family.

Willa reread that paragraph twice. Neither time provided less of a shock. _Her father had committed treason and was sentenced to death? Septimus had pardoned him? And how had her father mistreated the Malfoys, especially since Septimus’ deceased wife was working with him?_

She took a deep breath and continued to the next paragraph of Septimus’ letter.

> As for Octavia’s remarks on my interest in you as a political pawn against Ardan, these are unfounded and ill-informed. I fear you and I suffered the same moment in Gringotts in which we had already found ourselves attracted to one another before understanding the other’s identity. Forgive my bluntness, but since Lila died, no one had remotely piqued my interest until I saw you across the bank lobby that day. Then your thoughts upon first seeing me gave me such a thrill, I believe that moment was when all was lost for me. Only seconds later for your uncle to explain that you were Ardan’s daughter. It was most unfortunate to learn and I began to convince myself to abandon interest, but then you cast legilimency on me. I knew I had to know you. I had to see you again. There was no other path for me.
> 
> Thus, we are here. No part of our journey to this moment has involved me wishing to involve you in any plot, political or otherwise. I promise you this. On my end, it is entirely to do with my desire to know you and all your manifold of attractions. The abundance of which continues to grow at a rate in which some might deem dangerous to the heart. I, for one, am not limited like those people, for my heart is certainly capable and willing to accommodate everything you wish to offer it.

Willa’s heart pounded in her chest. Every nerve aflutter in her body. She read this paragraph again and again, wondering if she would ever tire of the words. Finally, a stupid grin unable to wipe off her face, she returned to the remainder of the letter.

> I, however, cannot continue revisiting all these moments for it makes me miss you too dearly. Instead I will relay the final updates from France. What I am sharing with you cannot be revealed to anyone. Disclosure of this information could put lives at risk.
> 
> Logically one would ask why I stayed in Paris so long outside of the magical community during the attacks. Why was I so far from Minister Osbert? The story was that I was in hiding, but the truth was that I was assisting the interventionalists, called _Pro-Moldus_ and led by Vincent Saint-Just de Vendée. Though he is better known in the wizarding community by his nickname Duc de Trefle-Picques, a combination of the fact his Muggle father is the Duke of Vendée and of his infamous skills at cards. As a noble, he is at high risk of execution by the Muggle revolution. This uniquely positions him to help noble Muggles escape the guillotine and other worse fates. We worked tirelessly to house as many nobles as we could during the massacres, and remove them from Paris through magical means. As you might realize, this would be considered treason by the British and French Ministries alike.
> 
> For now, the opposing faction, the _Anti-Moldus_ , lays quiet, dissenting only in formal methods. Vincent does not believe this will last, however, and he is concerned for civil war within the French magical community.
> 
> As it stands, the British Ministry will not interfere with any element of this discontent in the French magical government and communities. While I was glad to be gone from Paris, I do feel a sense of duty to return there and help however I can. Unfortunately, my position restricts me from doing so. Vincent understands, of course, but it is difficult to be here knowing I could be doing so much more there, yet I then feel guilt for how much happier I am here. I hope with sincerity this Muggle revolt never spreads to England. It is painful to imagine what fate would await my dear friend Prince George. It is fortunate the Muggle Thomas Paine has fled the country, though I hope he sees justice for his treasonous literature.
> 
> I fear, of course, I bore you with these political details, but you do seem to have interest in such affairs. Besides, this is all that occupies my mind now, so I have little else to write to you. I wish you the best of luck with the Triwizard Tournament trials, though I am certain you will not need it to win. Given your proclivity for legilimency, I imagine none of your duels will last long, which I would rather like to see.
> 
> I eagerly await your response, as a I recognize you may not send one given all I shared.
> 
> Until then, with all my heart,
> 
> Percival

Willa sat for a while thinking over his words. It was clear his inclinations towards her matched hers towards him, even if a rational person might caution that it all seemed too much, too soon. After thinking he had died in Paris, Willa determined she would not attempt to control her emotions for Septimus. It appeared he felt the same.

The treason of her father and Lila’s involvement in that proved a difficult idea to process, especially given the lack of details around the actual events. She wondered if this had something to do with Lila’s death, but the timing did not align, as she died three years after the Gamps moved to America, according to Elnath’s account from Quintus.

The dark thought that if Septimus had not pardoned her father, Ciaran might be alive entered her mind. She did not blame Septimus, of course, for she was the one who killed Ciaran. Willa stopped to reflect that it had been ages since she admitted to killing her brother in her own mind. It was so deeply buried, so hidden in order to protect herself, her family’s name. Almost nowhere was safe to think freely. Anyone could be reading her mind and catch a sliver of detail that did not match the story that she testified to in court to make his and Opala’s deaths permissible.

She pushed these thoughts away and played out the potential course of events had her father been executed by the British Ministry and her family remained in Dublin. The publicity of his crime would ruin her family, she soon realized. It had been kinder for Septimus to send them away than force them to remain under Ardan’s fallen reputation. The sexism of the nation allowed the male to write the narrative, and her mother would not have recovered from being so tainted, despite the immense wealth she would have inherited from the Gamp lineage.

The entire thing was loathsome, and Willa found herself longing to talk it all through with Septimus. She felt entirely isolated, even from her own mind. She needed to tell someone what she had done. Someone who would not see her as a monster, not lock her up, not kill her. But also, she needed to hear him explain what happened to Lila. The more she learned about her, the more Willa became certain he had killed her. Yet, she could not talk to him except via the unsecure format of a letter, easily intercepted. She felt trapped and without agency in the castle. It was so maddening that she decided instead to reread the part of his letter about the building tensions of Wizarding France.

She wondered how affected the Beauxbatons students would be by this. The Pyrenees were far from Paris and _le Ministère_ , but every student would have parents who lived and worked in the wizarding world. Except the Muggle-borns, she realized with a wash of horror. For they would be part of the bloody conflict ravaging the nation. The full weight of Septimus’ secret actions in Paris finally hit her, and she began her response to him with this as the focus.


	9. A Secret Meeting in Hogsmeade

The first Hogsmeade Weekend was the topic that received the most attention the week following the first round of duels. The prospect of it garnered an incessant buzz among the students until it finally arrived and Willa stood in the courtyard in her favorite day dress, emerald green with cream colored stripes, looking around for Elnath.

"I have not seen her." Rigel said, approaching Willa with Clement at his side. Both looked dapper, as if this were an official romantic outing for them.

"We never made set plans. I just assumed." Willa frowned. "She has been difficult to pin down lately. As though she is avoiding me."

"Same for me. It is odd for her." Rigel said.

"You could come with us to Hogsmeade." Clement suggested to Willa. "We are only going to Three Broomsticks, after all."

Willa looked to Rigel, who did not appear put off by the idea, and said, "I do not wish to intrude."

"Nonsense," Clement went on, giving Rigel a naughty look before he added, "Besides, if you come then we can sit next to one another instead of across from one another."

Rigel blushed slightly and Willa said to him, "He was definitely mis-sorted, you know."

"Oh, I know." Rigel laughed. "Come on, I need a butterbeer."

"I need a real beer." Willa grinned.

She threw one last look around for Elnath and then set off with the two boys for the carriages to the village.

Hogsmeade's one thoroughfare, High Street, featured the Three Broomsticks, a large pub that now bustled with students, professors, and an assortment of villagers and visitors. It was too crowded to really take in the dark décor, but Willa did not feel it was anything special. Their trio noticed only one unoccupied booth and hurried to claim it. Willa and Clement slid into the benches across from one another and Rigel moved in next to Clement.

"I can buy. What are we having?" Willa asked.

"Butterbeer." Both Clement and Rigel said.

She nodded and stood, heading for the pub's bar. Aided by a little flirtation with the barkeep, she successfully got herself served a brown ale and then added on two butterbeers for the boys. As she turned to deliver their drinks, she saw Elnath enter with Octavia, Abigail and Josephina. Letting out a sigh, she spun away and right into the path of Professor Llewellyn, who held a carafe of red wine. With almost catlike reflexes, she backed up before they could collide.

"I do apologize, Miss Gamp. And I must say, nicely done at your duel last Saturday." He said, bowing at her slightly after she thanked him. Willa noticed the gray in his tight black curls more prominently when he bowed because he had his hair tied with a ribbon pulling them straighter than their normal state. He walked past her to a table where Professor Ingerson sat, almost more dressed up than at Hogwarts, and Willa vaguely wondered if they were here together in a romantic capacity.

She continued to her table, happy to set down the beers as she muttered, "Elnath has arrived."

Rigel and Clement looked around until they spotted her, laughing with the fifth years at a very central table, located where everyone could easily admire them.

"Why would she be with them?" Rigel frowned.

"Is she back with Quintus?" Clement asked.

"Not to my knowledge." Willa said, sliding into her side of the booth. "I told her it would be wise to be friendlier to Octavia, but that was weeks ago."

"Why would that be wise?" Clement asked.

"She is a Malfoy." Willa said bluntly.

"So what?" Clement said.

Rigel nearly gaped at him. "So, it matters for the Black family what the Malfoys think of us."

"I apologize." Clement said, his eyes widened like a doe and he blinked his long lashes in a way that Willa felt no one could refuse.

"It is forgiven." Rigel said, staring into him in a way that made Willa feel compelled look away. All of her longed for Septimus in that moment. She snapped out of it when she noticed Abigail staring at them. After giving her a friendly smile, she turned back to her table.

"Abigail is looking at us." She said quietly and then drank her beer. "Does she still pine for you, Rigel?"

"Merlin, I hope not. That was tedious to deflect. She is relentless." He groaned after reluctantly pulling his intimate gaze off Clement.

"Well at least she has good taste." Clement teased. "Tell me, do you only need one Malfoy in your pocket, or must they all like you?"

"What are you asking?" Rigel asked cautiously.

"For example, Mr. Malfoy favors you, so must his children as well, or is it really only his opinion that matters?" Clement pressed to Rigel.

"You think he would wish to employ me next year should I treat his children with disdain?" Rigel said.

"You know that is not what I am asking." Clement continued.

"This again?" Rigel protested in an annoyed voice.

Clement pursed his lips with a challenging expression.

"I will not apologize for it. He is undeniably handsome." Rigel declared in a tone that indicated this was not a new topic of conversation for the couple.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Willa clarified with a laugh.

"Yes, and do not deny you agree with your cousin on the matter." Clement said haughtily to her.

Willa felt the heat rush to her cheeks.

"You find Mr. Malfoy attractive?" Rigel asked her, surprised.

"I have eyes." Willa shrugged. Inside though, she was delighted to be able to speak about this with some level of honesty.

"Tell me again, dear," Clement asked Rigel with his doe eyes. "As you plan to apprentice under him next year, do I have cause for concern?"

"No." Both Rigel and Willa said with the same level of certainty, though for very differing reasons.

Rigel looked at Willa questioningly while Clement settled into a smug smile. Willa avoided glaring at Clement as to not feed Rigel's curiosity more. She already had given away too much. Instead she drank more of her ale and pretended to become fascinated with the window panes beside her.

"I did not think he would come." Clement said, snapping Willa back to. His tone was opposite the playfulness of immediately prior. He waved his arm in the air and called out, "Brax!"

Willa let out a small sigh of relief as Rigel's gaze moved off her and back to Clement to ask, "I heard Azkaban moved his mother to maximum security?"

"Yes, they did." Clement said quickly, before smiling to greet the tall blond approaching their booth.

Willa looked up to Braxton as well, scooting over to make space for him. He looked at her with surprise, as if he had not realized she was there.

"I am getting a drink." Braxton said awkwardly.

"I will join you." Willa stated, downed the rest of her beer, and stood up next to him.

Braxton shied away from her new proximity and shot Clement an angry look.

"You realize you are not invisible, right?" she said to him.

Braxton and Clement both looked at her sharply, confirming for Willa that Clement knew about Braxton's invisibility cloak.

"Yes, I am not as talented as you at charms." Braxton replied after a moment, looking down at her with a placating smile.

Willa locked eyes with him, casting legilimency to see what he knew about her Disillusionment charms only to have him block her completely and say harshly, "Stop."

"Fine." She snapped, removing the spell.

Braxton turned to the confused table and smiled broadly as he said, "We will be back. More butterbeers for you two?"

"Yes, please." Clement said and Rigel nodded.

Braxton brushed past her and she hurried to keep up, realizing how much she enjoyed watching his movements as he gracefully navigated the crowd. People did not vacate his path the way they did for Septimus, but he had such corporal precision in circumventing bodies, it was as if they had. Finally they reached the bar, squeezing between two groups of noisy villagers, and he looked down at her to ask what she wanted. This close to his face, she could see he had been crying recently. It was subtle, but the redness was there.

"Another brown ale." She said.

"Good thing Mr. Caraid is working." He said, looking to the husky, dark-skinned barkeeper who had served Willa before.

"Braxton Bagshot! My favorite Chaser! When is your first match?" Mr. Caraid grinned, pulling out three shot glasses as he noticed Willa. He threw playfully to Braxton, "A new admirer this season?"

Braxton laughed and said, "No, Miss Gamp is very attached to some bloke in Paris."

Willa felt herself blushing and Mr. Caraid said, "Only joking, dear. Firewhisky fine?"

She nodded and he poured, asking Braxton again when his match would be.

"Not playing this year." Braxton said, adding before Mr. Caraid could protest, "Triwizard Tournament."

"You made it in? I thought trials were still on?"

"No, they are, but I feel confident. In fact, Miss Gamp here is likely making it in as well." Braxton said easily.

Mr. Caraid lifted his shot glass and said, "A toast to you both then!"

They lifted their shot glasses and Mr. Caraid said, "To eternal glory!"

"Eternal glory!" they echoed with smiles and threw back the liquor.

Mr. Caraid poured them a brown and red ale, plus the butterbeers and waved off Braxton's attempt to pay.

As the pair made their way back to the booth, Braxton explained Mr. Caraid was a friend of his father from Hogwarts days. When they got to the booth, Arlo Potter was in their bench, his dark hair looking as unkempt as it usually did.

"Apologies, I will move next to Rigel." He said, standing with a smile at Willa.

Braxton slid in first to the now free bench, and Willa gave the boys their butterbeers before sliding in next to Braxton. Rigel and Clement smiled to one another as they pressed closer together with the addition of Arlo to their bench.

"I do not think we have officially met, Willa. Though I feel I already know you from all Clement tells me." Arlo said once she was settled.

"I feel the same about you, Arlo." Willa smiled. "Except of course from Elnath not Clement."

Arlo nodded, rolling his eyes a little bit as he added, "She still hates me then?"

"Oh, hate seems too passionate." Willa frowned and looked at Rigel, "What would you say?"

"I say nothing that could get me in trouble." Rigel grinned.

His hand slid under the table and over to Clement's thigh, and Willa glanced at Octavia's table to check if Abigail was watching. Instead she found Elnath was gone. Scanning the bar for her, she just caught sight of her dress fabric as Elnath left the Three Broomsticks.

"Elnath just left. Alone." Willa said in a low, serious voice to Rigel.

"Something is off." He said, agreeing with her tone's message.

"I will follow her." Willa stood, abandoning her beer and already starting towards the exit.

"I will escort you." Braxton said, following after her.

There was not time to protest and hope to effectively follow Elnath, so Willa simply continued on her path to the door. A path that cut directly by Octavia's table.

"Hi Braxton." Octavia said as they passed. Willa felt his hand press into the small of her back as if to urge her to hurry, though she knew every fifth year at that table would interpret it another way. She was unsure if she should as well.

Once outside the early autumn sun reflected off a certain head of blonde curls as Elnath cut around the corner of the Owl Post.

"Hog's Head is the only thing down that road. Why would she go there?" Braxton asked aloud, now in step with Willa.

"You do not need to escort me." Willa protested. "I do not think I can maintain a Disillusionment charm on us both."

"You should be glad I escorted you then, since every wizard in Hog's Head will see through it." He said with almost a smug smile.

"Doubting my specialty so soon?" Willa pressed, still in fast pursuit of her cousin.

"In no form." Braxton said with a coy smile. "Hog's Head blocks all dampening charms so no underage wizards can get in undetected."

"So how will Elnath get in?"

"With an escort who is of age." Braxton said.

"Neither of us is of age." Willa pointed out. "You are not a worthy escort after all."

"You say that now…" Braxton grinned as he gripped Willa's hand and pulled her into a tight alleyway between two village row homes.

"Excuse me, but this is hardly appropriate!" Willa said loudly, panic rising within her. She did not think she could physically overpower Braxton, and she did not want to hurt him magically.

"Calm down, I am not going to hurt you." He said in a hushed, urgent tone.

Willa looked up at him. His blue eyes were peering down at her, upset by her fear of him. He already had let go of her hand and did not try to comfort her with touch.

"What then?" Willa finally asked.

"This," Braxton said, reaching into his robes to produce the invisibility cloak.

Willa pretended not to recognize it.

"It is Arlo's invisibility cloak." Braxton explained. Its ownership genuinely surprised Willa, as she had assumed it Braxton's, so she did not have to feign her shock.

"Is it real? Why would he let you have it?" she asked.

"He is a good friend. And yes, it is real. It is the original invisibility cloak, the one from Beedle Bard. Ignotus Peverell's cloak, originally. He's Arlo's ancestor. He inherited the cloak after his dad died of Dragon Pox two years ago." Braxton explained.

"Beedle Bard? As in the Tale of Three Brothers?" Willa asked, forgetting for a moment everything except the eerie tapestries in Malfoy Manor's secret wing.

"Arlo says it can hide you from everything—even death. Hog's Head will not block it."

"You are letting me use it?" Willa asked, shocked.

"Ha! Arlo would kill me. No, I am your escort." He hesitated a moment, looking away as he added, "If you want."

"Yes. I need to follow Elnath. She is not herself of late." Willa said hastily.

Braxton opened the cloak and glanced around thoroughly before shrouding them both underneath it.

"It only hides us visibly. All sounds are still audible." He explained, now as close to her as they were at the crowded bar before.

"I understand." Willa said. "Let us hurry."

Braxton kept even stride just behind her as they nearly ran to catch up to Elnath. She was not on the road still and they were forced to wait for someone to enter Hog's Head whom they could tail to go inside so the door would not appear to open on its own. To their surprise, that person ended up being Professor Stump. As they followed him in, Willa could not tell if Braxton's heart too was pounding over the loud thumping in her ears from her own.

Once inside and away from Grogan, they both let out a quiet sigh of relief. They pressed against a wall so no one would bump into them accidentally and took in the dank bar. Its mood was darker and quieter than the humming tantrums of Three Broomsticks. Willa noticed Grogan sat at the bar alone and ordered a scotch neat. A moment later she saw Elnath. Her cousin sat at an almost hidden booth around a jagged wall. She could not see who she conversed with other than their hand, which reached out to cover Elnath's.

Willa motioned to Braxton with her head to indicate Elnath's location and the obvious fact that they needed to cross the room in order to eavesdrop.

He understood without further clarification, yet another thing that made Braxton remind her of Ciaran, and led the way cautiously and silently through the subdued crowd.

Finally they reached the wall across from Elnath's booth and Willa had to stifle her gasp as she saw her cousin's companion was Uncle Corvinus.

Braxton did not know who he was and Willa could not explain. Her shocked and appalled expression informed him it was both negative and unexpected. Unfortunately as they went to listen in, Braxton soon realized the conversation was not in English. It sounded like strange, elongated hissing noises and he looked at Willa with confusion. She, however, was fully engrossed with Elnath and the man's conversation, as though she could understand it. He quickly surmised she could.

"How is she faring, truly?" Uncle Corvinus asked Elnath in Parseltongue.

"She is moody and no longer eating what I bring her." Elnath said, then smiled as she added, "I think she is starting to like me."

"She likes no heir. Obeys us, yes. Likes us, not at all. Beasts cannot form such attachments."

"Yes, I understand. I only mean she no longer pretends to attack me when I bring her food." Elnath said.

Uncle Corvinus smiled and Willa was reminded of Aunt Nerodia. The two shared many features of resemblance. Elnath clearly noticed as well because she pulled her hand back from his and placed it on her lap. This caused Uncle Corvinus to frown.

"I have upset you, my dear niece." He said. "Come now, your face is too beautiful to look upset."

Elnath smiled uncomfortably and said, "You have not upset me."

There was a long pause in which neither spoke.

"Tell me about the construction of the lavatory." Uncle Corvinus said finally breaking the silence.

"It will be easier to show you." Elnath said, reaching into her robe to produce what Willa immediately recognized as the black leather-bound journal Elnath had stolen from Salazar's Study their first night in the castle.

Uncle Corvinus reached out a hand to stop her as she began to open it.

"Wait," he said. "First let us finalize the binding ritual."

"Here in the open?" Elnath asked in a hushed hiss, throwing a furtive glance around. As she did, she noticed Grogan sat at the bar. Willa and Braxton both saw the panic wash over her upon seeing him. Her look was one of horrified concern, as if she knew Grogan was in imminent danger yet could do nothing to protect him. She swallowed quietly and her face hardened, masking all emotion as she turned back to Uncle Corvinus. Willa and Braxton exchanged an anxious glance under the invisibility cloak and Braxton continued to wonder what exactly was going on.

"Yes, no one watches us. We are hidden here. Why do you think I chose this spot?" Uncle Corvinus hissed impatiently.

Elnath nodded, her mouth in a hard line as she said, "You must not return to Hogsmeade after this time."

"I understand. The next time we meet, you must come to me." He licked his lips idly, "That is why we must finish this now."

Uncle Corvinus produced an elaborate dagger made of Goblin-wrought silver from his robe and said, "Come beside me, my beautiful niece."

Elnath stood and moved next to him in the booth, which was barely large enough for two people. Braxton looked at Willa with concern, but she was fixated on the pair so intensely he worried she might yelp if he tried for her attention. Instead he looked back to Professor Stump, who was now looking at Elnath with the same intensity as Willa. Braxton held his breath and looked back to Elnath and the man.

"I can go first." Elnath said.

Uncle Corvinus gave her the dagger and they saw the handle formed a serpent, carved from a deep green jade. Before they could process the intricate details, Elnath had gripped the dagger, pushed up the sleeve of her robe, and sliced open her wrist. Her uncle bent to her delicate arm, his mouth covering the cut and sucking out her blood. Elnath looked away as he did this, focusing on the back wall of Hog's Head. Braxton looked between Willa and Professor Stump to find both their eyes nearly bulging from their heads in shocked disgust. He was glad not to be alone in this feeling, despite having no idea what conversation led to this point.

Uncle Corvinus' satisfied sigh brought Braxton's attention back to the odd pair. Uncle Corvinus pulled his wand and healed Elnath's wound, then took back the dagger, still dirty with her blood, and cut open his wrist.

Elnath scrunched up her nose as she pulled his arm to her mouth. She was more controlled about it and only drank as much as required. Nevertheless, Uncle Corvinus took advantage of her distracted attention to place his free hand on her face in a loving way, caressing her skin and hair while her lips were pressed to his wrist. The instant she finished her part of the binding ritual, she moved to stand.

Uncle Corvinus gripped onto her tightly and whispered, "Stay with me a moment."

Willa's hand grasped Braxton's forearm hard.

"I wish to return to my seat." Elnath said calmly.

"Just one kiss, sweet Elnath. For me." Uncle Corvinus smiled.

Willa's fingers dug into Braxton's skin and he winced at the pain. Clearly something was wrong.

"This location is inappropriate for that." Elnath said sharply.

"Surely for a dying man you can abandon propriety this once." Uncle Corvinus cooed.

Willa's hand abandoned Braxton's arm to reach for her wand. Her movements were swift and Braxton had to be quick about holding down her wand arm. She stared at him with fierce eyes and he noticed tears forming at their brims. Braxton shook his head slowly at her. She could not produce any magic without them being discovered and Arlo's cloak being confiscated.

"Is everything all right, Miss Black?" Grogan's voice rang out in English as Willa and Braxton struggled silently under the invisibility cloak. He had approached the booth while they were distracted with each other.

Uncle Corvinus released Elnath at Grogan's presence and she immediately stood. Braxton moved Willa and himself slightly closer to the bar so no one would bump into them in the tense situation.

"Yes, everything is fine, Professor." Elnath replied, taking the diary from the table and slipping it back into her robe. She looked him in the eye and asked, "Why are you here?"

"I was having a drink at the bar." He said simply.

Uncle Corvinus let out a laugh as he stood. He straightened his jacket and moved slightly too close to Grogan, as if to measure himself against him. Unfortunately for Uncle Corvinus, he was a good two inches shorter than the young professor.

Still, he puffed out his chest and said haughtily, "My niece does not care why you are here. She was politely telling you to leave her alone. No doubt someone of your inferior birth would be ignorant of such social delicacies. Thankfully I am here to inform you of your place."

Braxton felt sicker than before, finally knowing the true relationship between Elnath and the man.

Meanwhile Grogan fought a smirking laugh and then turned to Elnath and said, "Miss Black, let me escort you back to Hogwarts, where you will be safe."

Elnath's eyes widened with fear at the callousness of his words.

Uncle Corvinus pulled his wand, shoved it into Grogan's throat, and said, "You had your chance to leave, boy. Now you insult both me and my niece and there is no other option but to duel."

Now Grogan did laugh. He looked at Corvinus and said, "Sir, truly there is no need to duel."

Grogan took hold of Elnath's arm and began to lead her towards the exit. As they reached the middle of the bar, Uncle Corvinus caught up to them and yelled, wand out, "Unhand my niece!"

The bar fell silent.

Grogan dropped Elnath's arm and turned to Corvinus with malice in his eyes. Braxton and Willa both shuddered at his expression, wondering for a moment if he was going to kill Uncle Corvinus.

Instead Grogan hissed to Corvinus in Parseltongue, "Do not return to Hogsmeade."

Elnath and Willa both gasped and Braxton was too in shock to cover Willa's mouth. Fortunately, Elnath's gasp sufficiently covered the noise from Willa.

Uncle Corvinus recovered from his surprise at Grogan's ability to speak the snake language and was starting to come up with an incantation of attack when Grogan swiftly punched him in the face. The blow was hard and well-aimed, and Corvinus crumpled to the floor under its force. Grogan knelt to take his wand. He gave it to the barkeeper before returning to Elnath and forcibly ushering her out of the bar.

Hog's Head's patrons erupted into chatter and laughter as Willa took off after her cousin and their professor. Braxton struggled to keep up with her while remaining under the cloak.

They burst through the door in time to catch Elnath turn on Grogan with fury in her eyes. Her wand was out and she pointed it at him unforgivingly.

"How dare you interfere like that. Who exactly do you think you are approaching me at a private meeting?" she bellowed at him.

Grogan stopped in his tracks, shocked at her level of anger.

"I am your professor and as such, I am invested with a duty of care." He said finally.

"We are not at Hogwarts. You have no obligation to my wellbeing outside the school grounds." Elnath retorted.

"He was trying to hurt you, Elnath." Grogan stammered.

"I do not need your protection. Besides, the only person I saw causing violence was you." Elnath replied.

"Some beasts need physical handling to stay down." Grogan growled in a low voice.

Elnath stepped closer to him, her expression nearly as evil looking as Grogan's had been towards Corvinus, and said coolly, "Mind yourself, Grogan. Or have you forgotten your stature?"

Grogan did not shy away from Elnath's aggression and instead stepped into it, his body suddenly very close to hers. Elnath's heart rate increased with his proximity, even though she kept her cool.

Willa held her breath, wishing Braxton was not witnessing what might become a very private moment for Elnath.

"Hog's Head is out of bounds for students. I could have you expelled for entering while on a school sponsored outing. Or were you quite certain the rules did not apply to you, Miss Black?" Grogan said in a low, serious tone.

"You, Grogan Stump, whose name has no meaning to anyone, are going to have me, a Black and a Gaunt, expelled from Hogwarts? How amusing it would be to see you try." she said with a wry laugh before her expression grew icy. "My ancestor founded this school. What did your ancestor do?"

Grogan was about to respond when Elnath cut him off.

"No, do not tell me. I do not care." She said.

Grogan bit the inside of his cheek and then said, "I am going to escort you back to Hogwarts now."

"You will do no such thing." Elnath said. "I am perfectly capable of walking back to Hogwarts alone."

She turned and began to walk towards High Street as if to demonstrate her point. Grogan trotted after her and Willa and Braxton began to follow them, still under the invisibility cloak.

"Your uncle will regain consciousness soon and I am certain he will be searching for you." Grogan said. "Please let me escort you back to the school."

Elnath stopped and turned back to Grogan with an impatient expression. She then said in Parseltongue, "He will be coming for you, not for me, to finish whatever duel you started. He will intend to kill you. So, it is you, not I, who should be attempting to return to Hogwarts as quickly as possible if you value your life."

This appeared to make no impact on Grogan, so Elnath added in English, "Not that your life is anything of value."

With that, she spun and walked away. Grogan did not follow this time, standing in place too stung by her final words to continue.

Willa and Braxton also stood in place, shocked too at Elnath's cruelness. A few minutes passed and they listened to Grogan admonish himself once Elnath was out of earshot. Muttering things about how he should not have let her go and how he must stop blurring the lines.

When Elnath turned onto High Street, Willa started to move herself and Braxton forward to follow her cousin, but Grogan pulled out his wand and cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, becoming invisible to their eyes. Braxton let out a sigh. This would make progressing securely under the cloak incredibly difficult.

Their urgency to continue away from Hog's Head increased immensely when Uncle Corvinus emerged from the bar and let out a loud hiss. Both Willa and Braxton quietly cussed the same word at the same time, then looked at each other slightly amused. She grabbed his hand and hurried them down the road, making a wide berth around the trajectory of where they had last seen Grogan.

Once they were to the Owl Post at the corner, she pulled them off the road and behind the building's far wall facing High Street.

Willa turned to Braxton and whispered, "I need you to catch up to Elnath and escort her back to either Hogwarts or Three Broomsticks."

"She wants to be alone." Braxton protested.

Willa shook her head, "She wants to protect Professor Stump from my uncle. You will have to make something up, make it about yourself because she already thinks you have an ego, but she will be glad for some company. Trust me."

"Why again am I helping you?" Braxton asked.

Willa smiled at him and said, "Because you are decent."

Braxton rolled his eyes, but his lips pulled into a smile as well.

"Now go. I need to find Rigel immediately to warn him our uncle is here." Willa said.

Braxton pulled the cloak off them and hurriedly folded it and shoved it back into his robe. Willa went first, slipping around the building and into the Owl Post itself. The interior's air was stale and reeked of owl feces. She gave an apologetic, "Oh, wrong place" to the grim looking owl keeper after a minute of looking around, then headed back into the street.

Uncle Corvinus was nowhere in sight. She wondered if he had disapparated after seeing no one outside Hog's Head. Still, she needed to get to Rigel and tell him what she had seen. They would have to intervene with Elnath tonight. Blood magic was not something to take lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to all new readers! Please feel free to leave comments and let me know what you think. I love comments :) As a reminder, I'm updating a new chapter every Wednesday.


	10. The Chamber of Secrets

Elnath was not in the common room or Salazar’s Study when Rigel and Willa arrived back at Hogwarts despite the head start she had on them. The cousins exchanged a worried look then sat to wait for her. Eventually she would return, they reasoned, and indeed within twenty minutes she emerged through the entryway.

“Braxton is a strange boy. I do not know why you two enjoy his company.” Elnath remarked upon seeing her cousin and brother.

“Elnath, we need to talk.” Rigel said.

“I have to meet Professor Hipworth for my lesson.” She said after throwing a cautious look between them.

“You had your lesson this morning. I spoke to him at Three Broomsticks.” Rigel replied and stood up. He lowered his voice and said, “Willa saw you with Uncle Corvinus. What is going on?”

“You saw me? You followed me to Hog’s Head?” Elnath said, indignant.

“I worried for you. You are not yourself of late. It reminded me of when we were at Malfoy Manor and you met with our uncle there.” Willa said.

“You worry?” Elnath laughed cruelly. “You sound like Professor Stump.”

Willa took a measured breath and then said softly, “I saw the blood magic, Elnath. What are you not telling us?”

“How could you see that?” Elnath asked with genuine confusion.

“I snuck into Hog’s Head.” Willa said.

“So, you saw everything? Even when Grogan—”

“Punched Uncle Corvinus? Yes.” Willa smiled.

Elnath laughed, relaxing as she said, “That was impressive. And he speaks Parseltongue!”

“I know!” Willa exclaimed.

Elnath moved closer to Rigel and Willa and said brightly, “It appears the time has come finally to show you both.

“Show us what?” Rigel asked with caution.

“Follow me.” Elnath grinned.

They followed her out the common room and down the side corridor that everyone knew to lead nowhere. They soon passed Couples Alcove, which was empty at the moment as everyone was still in Hogsmeade, and the air became colder as they continued deeper down the dungeon corridor. Elnath seemed not to notice as she moved with an ease of comfort like she had done this many times before. Finally they arrived at the dead end in front of a blank stone wall, no different than the corridor’s walls.

“ _Aparecium_!” Elnath hissed in Parseltongue.

The wall revealed itself to be false, a massive door appearing in its place. It resembled the door to Salazar’s study, but without the wrought iron. When Elnath hissed out, “ _Alohamora_ ,” it swung open with ease.

“ _Lumos_!” Elnath said, pulling out her wand as they entered the dark space. The door shut behind them on its own and Rigel and Willa both pulled their wands and murmured “ _Lumos_ ” into the dimly lit space. They found themselves in a tunnel of sorts, a dampness leaking in from the ground and cylindrical walls caused Willa to wonder if they were fully underneath the Great Lake.

“This way.” Elnath hissed, still speaking Parseltongue as she led them to the left, towards the center of the castle. Rigel and Willa followed in scared silence, frightened of the unknown that lay ahead.

Some time later they reached a widened space. It was circular with many tunnels feeding into it identical to the one they had emerged from. Noise could be heard faintly in the distance, causing Willa to look up. A chute was directly above her, the noise amplified through it from several stories away.

“What is above us?” she asked Elnath in English.

“The construction of the new lavatories. They are being built over the student entry to the chamber.” Elnath said matter-of-factly. “I am helping ensure they follow Uncle Corvinus’ plans so the tunnels can be sealed off to protect her.”

Rigel looked at Willa first to confirm she too had no clue of what Elnath spoke, then said to his sister, “Is this the chamber? Who is she?”

Elnath gave him a pitying smile then walked in a circle around the space where Willa stood. She looked at her cousin and said, “You will be safe.”

Before Willa could respond, Elnath hissed out, “Open” in Parseltongue and the floor beneath Willa disappeared. Screaming madly, she free fell for several seconds until the tube she was now in curved some, catching her body like a slide. She regretted not changing out of her favorite dress, as the sides of the tube were covered in algae sludge. Soon she heard Rigel’s scream as he plummeted in after her. She assumed Elnath followed, but there was no screaming noise to indicate her presence.

The tube went on for a while, curving and switching directions, constantly dropping deeper into the ground until it finally it leveled out and flung her neatly from the end of it. Willa managed to land on her feet and scrambled out of the way before Rigel came flying out moments later. His landing was less graceful and she bent down to help him to his feet in the murky tunnel they were now in.

“I am not a fan of this chamber, whatever it is.” Rigel grumbled. Willa smirked and said nothing as Elnath landed gracefully in the space where Rigel had fallen.

“Nearly there now.” Elnath said easily as she waltzed past the two, pulling her wand out to cast, “ _Lumos Maxima_!”

The tunnel illuminated in full to show the ceilings were higher than expected. It felt like the main drainage pipe for the castle into the lake. The final resting place of all the rain and snow from the gutters and gargoyles high above.

“Is there another entrance less grimy?” Willa asked, hurrying to follow after her.

“Of course. How else could I bring in the elk?” Elnath said. Rigel and Willa exchanged a look behind her back, and Elnath continued unknowingly, “If we had gone right instead of left at the tunnel we entered from, it eventually takes you to a spiral staircase down to the entrance. However, I needed you to see the student entrance so you know what needs to be done construction-wise so the access to the chamber is not lost for non-heirs. The other entrance is not accessible to anyone but the Heir of Slytherin. Naturally we all could get in that way, which is important for you especially, Rigel.”

“Why is that?” Rigel asked.

“Because you will need to feed her while I am in France.” Elnath said simply. “That is, assuming Willa bests Georgiana Winks next weekend and makes it to the semi-finals.”

She flashed Willa a smile, who nodded at her to confirm she intended to win. Once Elnath looked forward again, Willa’s smile dropped and she reached out to stroke Rigel’s arm reassuringly. They both fully wondered now if Elnath had gone mad and invented someone, a woman.

As they turned a final bend and arrived at a massive stone wall, Elnath announced, “We are here.”

In the stone were carved two snakes. Their long bodies entwined and their eyes were set with large, gorgeous emeralds that gleamed in the white light of Elnath’s wand.

“Open.” Elnath hissed out in Parseltongue.

The snake carvings jumped to life, slithering apart from each other to opposite sides of the wall. Once fully separated, they turned back to stone and the wall cracked open. The two halves slid quietly out of sight and Elnath undid her Wand-Lighting charm as she entered the chamber.

When Willa and Rigel did not immediately follow, she turned back to them with a kind smile.

“Do not be afraid,” she said. “You are both heirs to Salazar Slytherin, so there is nothing to fear in his Chamber of Secrets.”

She then continued into the darkness and Willa and Rigel had little choice but to follow her inside, wordlessly grasping the other’s hand as they proceeded.

Torches lit as the trio entered, illuminating a massive chamber, adorned with serpent carvings throughout. They wrapped around structural columns and became larger as the stoned pathway led to an oversized statue of their common ancestor. Salazar Slytherin’s body loomed enormously against the back wall, his feet and the end of his long, pointy beard the most visible parts of the statue, as they were the only ones at eye level. The three Gaunts craned their necks upwards to stare at the statue’s face.

“What is this place?” Rigel finally asked.

“Salazar called it the Chamber of Secrets. It is a classroom at its heart, for teaching Dark Magic. Of course, he never got to use it for that purpose.” Elnath said.

“How do you know what Salazar called it?” Willa asked with a frown.

“He recorded it all…” Elnath said, reaching into her robe to produce the black journal she had taken from Salazar’s Study their first night in the castle. The one she had in Hog’s Head. “In here. His diary.”

“That book does not look eight hundred years old.” Rigel said, moving closer for a better look.

“It is preserved.” Elnath said. “Actually, Rigel, you will need to know how to use it, so I will show you how it works.”

She opened the diary and revealed the pages were blank. Glancing at Rigel to make sure he was watching she said, “Now, you do not need to write in it. It records your memories, much like a Pensieve, except more secure. Only Parselmouths can access the contents, and only the Heir of Slytherin can add to its contents.”

“I say anything in Parseltongue and then I can read it?” Rigel asked.

Willa peered in closer as well, curious about this magic she did not know. She wondered if she and Septimus could create a journal like this instead of letters. Quickly she realized that she preferred to have instant access to his past letters for rereading.

“Not quite. You think about what topic you need to know more on, for example, what is the Chamber of Secrets, then you say, ‘Show me’ in Parseltongue.” Elnath explained. She handed Rigel the diary.

He appeared contemplative for a moment, then said in Parseltongue, “Show me.”

A flash of silver light flooded from the diary’s pages, engulfing Rigel in a blinding way for a second before going dark again. There was a thud as the diary hit the stone floor. Rigel was no longer there.

“What happened?” Willa asked.

“He went inside the pages.” Elnath explained calmly. “It does not usually take very long. The information processes faster in the pages than it transpires in actual time.”

Willa nodded and then ventured to say in their newfound privacy, “Will you apologize to Grogan?”

“You saw that too?” Elnath asked. At Willa’s nod her face grew red as guilt spread throughout her.

“I think you should.” Willa said. “If you have any interest in maintaining positive relations with him, that is.”

“I do.” Elnath said quickly. She drew in a breath and said, “I was only trying to protect him.”

“I know.” Willa said softly. She placed her hand on Elnath’s forearm gently and added, “But he may not. Your words were rather harsh.”

Elnath nodded, digesting this perspective still as Rigel reappeared in another burst of silver light.

His eyes were ablaze and he turned on Elnath sharply, spewing out, “You want to murder all those with Muggle blood?”

Willa pulled her hand from Elnath in shock.

“No, no that is not true.” Elnath protested with earnest. “Why would you say that?”

“I did not say that. The diary did! The ‘she’ you keep mentioning is merely a monster grown by Salazar to keep the school pure of blood.” Rigel spat. “You want me to care for such a creature?”

“That was not Salazar’s intention. Like the other founders, he wanted to provide the safest possible environment for education and training. He sought to protect his students, untrained witches and wizards, from the threat of violent Muggles who hunted and murdered them and their families. Of course he could not foresee the Statute of Secrecy or the peaceful integration of Muggle-borns into the school. There was no precedent for that when he built this chamber. Regardless, the basilisk is not trained to prey on those with Muggle blood, she is trained to only listen to the heirs of Slytherin, and I do not have any plans to command her to murder anyone—Muggle or Wizard.” Elnath explained so defensively that she missed the gaping shock of Willa and Rigel.

“BASILISK?” they both exclaimed.

“Yes,” Elnath said. Finally, she saw their faces and lowered her voice, “Yes, she is a basilisk and she trusts me.”

“You told Uncle Corvinus she was not trying to attack you anymore. That is far from trust.” Willa said.

“I lied.” Elnath said with a slight edge to her voice. “He is a petty man who would rather kill me than see how easily I wield the power of Slytherin. Now that I have the final preparatory exchange of blood from him, I will be in full control of her and able to access nearly all my birthright.”

“The blood magic.” Rigel whispered. “The line is indirect so you have to consume Uncle Corvinus’ blood to become the full heir.”

“Yes, I endure that wretched man for the sake of legacy,” Elnath’s eyes began to turn red as she looked between them and added in a serious tone, “Our legacy.”

“Elnath…” Rigel began cautiously.

“Your eyes.” Willa whispered.

“They grow red?” Elnath asked.

They nodded.

“It is the magic. You both need to see. Willa, I need you to help me test the powers.” Elnath said, her eyes now a bright blood red. “Use the Cruciatus Curse on me.”

“Elnath,” Willa said softly, but sternly. “I will not.”

“Do it.” Elnath hissed out. “I have to know if I channeled the heir’s powers correctly. They should make me invulnerable to attack.”

Willa became curious, and the curse was something she had practiced quite often with Ciaran. If Elnath was vulnerable to it, she could easily stop it.

“Willa, no.” Rigel said, seeing his cousin weigh the idea.

“Stand back, Rigel.” Willa said as she decided to test it. Elnath smiled and took a deep breath. Willa looked at her and added, “If you are wrong, this will hurt more than anything you have known.”

Elnath nodded and said again, “Do it.”

“Willa, do not do this!” Rigel protested.

Elnath cast immobilization and silencing spells on him and then looked back to Willa with expectance.

“Ready?” Willa asked, pulling her wand to the ready.

Elnath nodded.

Willa aimed for her stomach, not her heart, and channeled all of her hatred and pain into the wand to activate the curse before she shouted powerfully, “ _Crucio_!”

The red curse flew from her wand directly into her cousin’s midsection, the blow back of using Dark Magic painful to Willa’s hand. It was the first time she had used this wand for such darkness and it was yet to learn how to handle it.

Elnath blinked and the cousins looked at each other for a moment before they both broke into grins.

“It worked?” Willa said.

“It worked!” Elnath exclaimed. “Try the Imperius Curse.”

“I am not as skilled with that one, but I will try.” Willa said. She then fixed Elnath a look and added, “I will not try the third one, however. I will not risk that.”

“No, I would never ask that of you.” Elnath said. “Besides, the diary is unclear as to whether it will actually work against the killing curse. Salazar never tried it.”

Willa glanced at Rigel and said, “I think you can release him.”

Elnath did and Rigel exclaimed, “I cannot believe that worked.”

They all laughed again, excited and relieved, then Rigel said, “Your eyes are not red any longer, sister. You should wait before trying the next curse.”

“Strange,” Elnath said. “It should be recharging from the energy within the chamber.”

“I never stopped the curse.” Willa realized, quickly doing so. Reverberations from the Dark Magic shot through her arm all the way up to her shoulder blades and she gritted at the pain. Clearly her new wand did not like Dark Magic. Meanwhile Elnath had collapsed when Willa removed the curse, Rigel rushed to catch her.

“That is enough for today.” He said, cradling his sister’s head in his arm to protect it from the stone floor.

“I still need you two to meet her.” Elnath said, gasping for air.

Willa pulled chocolate from her pocket that she had left over from Professor Albion and gave a piece to Elnath while eating some herself. The pain in her arm dissipated with each bite. Elnath sat up, swallowing the chocolate and color returning to her face. Finally she stood, steady on her feet as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reopened them to reveal they were bright red again.

Elnath walked closer to the statue of Salazar. She reached out her hand, which began to shake as she spoke clearly in Parseltongue, “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”

Willa and Rigel instinctively moved close to one another as the statue’s mouth began to open. Wider it went until finally the basilisk began to slither from its depths.

“Heirs to Salazar, we are. Do not stare upon us three.” Elnath said in Parseltongue as the massive serpent continued to pour from the statue’s gaping mouth.

Finally the thirty foot long, vivid green creature was entirely before them, carefully avoiding direct eye contact with any of them, as commanded. Willa’s initial reaction was not fear, but awe. The basilisk was beautiful, majestic even. The serpent slithered directly to Elnath, coiling around her loosely and resting her head on her coiled frame so she was the same height as her master.

Rigel approached the basilisk fearlessly, as if he were drawn to it. Willa expected him to speak to Elnath about her, but instead he spoke to the serpent directly.

“I am Rigel, Heir to Slytherin and brother to Elnath. I ask you, are you pregnant?” he said in Parseltongue.

“Yes, Rigel, brother of my master.” The basilisk said.

Willa scanned the creature for signs, soon finding the swollen space in her middle coils.

“Rigel will be caring for you while I am away.” Elnath said in Parseltongue.

Elnath met her brother’s eyes and they exchanged an unspoken confirmation.

“Did Corvinus have more instruction on how to care for my eggs?” the basilisk asked.

“No, he knows little, as you supposed.” Elnath said, then paused before adding, “I do think there is another I can seek out however. I promise to learn more before I leave.”

Willa looked at her, surmising she meant Grogan based on her expression.

The basilisk thanked Elnath, and she reached out a hand to stroke the creature soothingly. The strength of their bond was clear, and Willa realized her cousin had placed all of the unrequited love that Quintus’ absence left behind into the basilisk.

“You are bound together?” Willa asked quietly in English.

“Yes, the blood magic binds me to the basilisk.” Elnath nodded, her eyes still red. “Permits me access to her strength.”

Willa nodded, looking at Rigel who shared her concern over this. If Elnath could channel the basilisk’s strength, she would be bound to her vulnerabilities as well. For Rigel to care for her while Elnath was away was akin to him caring for his sister directly. If the basilisk were to die, so too might Elnath.

* * *

That evening, after Rigel and Elnath snuck out to bring an elk to the basilisk, Willa made her way to the Room of Requirement to read the letter from Septimus that had arrived at dinner. The room was not empty, and she cast her Disillusionment charm out of habit, wondering if Braxton could see through it.

The piano rang out from its usual room and Willa chose to listen from the couch in her writing room, the door left open between the two. Tonight’s music was much happier than his usual tune. The tempo upbeat and the true skill of his fingers on display in the complexity and speed of the piece. As it came to a fantastic close, playful and romantic at once, an applause burst from the room. Willa sat alert, panicked that someone besides Braxton was there.

“What do you think?” she heard Braxton ask through the open door.

“Impressive. Are we back to chosen compositions then?” a voice Willa recognized as Arlo said.

“No, it is nothing like that.” Braxton replied. “But you like it?”

“I love it. Reminds me of Rigel.” Another voice she knew to be Clement replied.

“Everything reminds you of Rigel.” Arlo groaned.

“Your jealousy grows, I see.” Braxton teased.

Arlo laughed easily and added, “If I wished to be in love, then perhaps I would be jealous of those two. But you know I only care about one person and those feelings have little to do with love.”

“Can we not speak about how much you hate Elnath Black for at least one night? You know how it weighs on me.” Clement moaned.

“What happened with her today?” Arlo asked, presumably to Braxton.

“Oh, nothing.” Braxton said awkwardly.

“Nothing happened?” Arlo scoffed. “Willa was terrified when she ran back into Three Broomsticks for Rigel.”

Willa held her breath wondering if Braxton would continue to lie to his friends to protect Elnath’s secret.

“Nothing happened that is any of your business.” Braxton finally said. “Besides, I walked Elnath back to the castle and she really is not as stuck up as you say.”

“Unbelievable. You too, huh? I have no friends anymore.” Arlo wailed.

There was a crashing noise and a yelp of protest from Arlo, and Willa had to stifle a laugh as she imagined Braxton shoving the boy off the piano bench.

“I do not think she is stuck up at all.” Clement said. “Even if she thinks my mother is impure.”

Willa bit her lip remembering how angry Rigel became after going inside Salazar’s diary. This was why. He feared for Clement’s life, specifically.

“She talked to me about her ring.” Braxton said after a long moment. His voice was quiet, secretive, and Willa had to strain to listen.

“She did?” Arlo asked, his interest clearly piqued.

“Nothing serious. She explained her uncle gave it to her as a family heirloom because he is dying.” Braxton continued.

“Does he want her to use it on him? This is the uncle Willa warned Rigel about?” Arlo asked.

“Her other uncle is dead. He willed his London home to Rigel.” Clement said.

“Lucky you,” Arlo teased.

“Yes, her uncle from today is evil.” Braxton said, his voice distant as he added, “I hope Willa is okay.”

Willa let out a quiet sigh, wanting to reveal herself if only to assure him she was fine.

“So, Elnath knows what the ring is?” Arlo asked.

“She did not confirm that, but I am fairly positive she knows.” Braxton said. “She knew her ancestor was Cadmus Peverell.”

Willa recognized the name Peverell from Braxton’s comment about Arlo’s invisibility cloak earlier that day. Was Cadmus a brother to Ignotus? If so, and it was based on the Tale of Three Brothers, then Elnath owned one of the hallows of Death. Arlo asked if she would use it on Corvinus, who was dying. Willa let out a breath as she realized Elnath owned the resurrection stone.

But there was no way it could be real. You could not bring someone back from the dead, not even with Dark Magic. Surely Arlo and Braxton understood that.

“She is not going to let you use it.” She heard Arlo say softly. “It will not bring Bethany back anyway.”

“You do not know anything about it.” Braxton said sharply.

“Guys, stop. I did not give up my evening with Rigel to listen to you two quarrel.” Clement said.

“Oh please. He canceled on you to be with Elnath. Like you would ever give up your free time with him for us—your friends.” Arlo said.

“Do you think Willa is with them?” Braxton asked.

“No. Like you, she got a letter at dinner. Though her reaction made it seem like it was from Percival, not her father, like yours. I am sure she is somewhere reading it.” Clement said through a yawn.

Willa blushed at Clement’s accuracy.

“I hate that guy.” Braxton muttered.

Clement laughed richly and finally said, “Sorry Brax, I know you fancy her, but you cannot compete with this one.”

“I do not fancy her. She reminds me of Bethany.” Braxton said quickly and harshly, adding, “It is like having my sister back.”

“His denial is so adorable.” Clement giggled.

“Incredibly so,” Arlo jeered.

“I am not in denial.” Braxton protested.

“If I was not already with such a beautiful man, I would definitely find you attractive in your state of denial, Brax.” Clement continued through laughter.

There was a pause in conversation, full of smacking noises and more laughter, until finally Arlo spoke.

“Well, this has been fun, but I am going to bed. Early lesson with Hipworth.” His voice sounded closer as he added, “It is good your dad has been getting money, Brax, even if you hate the source.”

“No, you are right.” Braxton agreed, his voice now closer too. “I just wish I had not received my father’s letter explaining that tonight.”

“It is odd though,” Clement said as the three entered the room Willa was in. “Why would Mr. Malfoy be helping your father? What does he want?”

Willa perked up at the mention of Septimus.

“I wish I knew so I could deny him it.” Braxton grumbled. Clement patted him on the back.

“Was that writing desk here before?” Arlo asked, looking at Willa’s desk.

“It appears sometimes.” Braxton shrugged, walking over to it and running his fingers over the wood.

Clement and Arlo shared a look behind his back and then both glanced around the room searchingly. Willa held her breath and willed them not to sit on the couch, on top of her.

“Come on, Arlo is falling asleep.” Clement said finally as Arlo yawned loudly.

“I did not tell you before…” Braxton said in a distant voice, still beside the writing desk. He turned towards his friends and unknowingly towards Willa, her disillusionment charm clearly undetectable to them. “Someone else is giving my father a monthly stipend. More money than Mr. Malfoy. Enough that I will be able to go to France.”

“Who?” Clement asked.

“The Gamps.”

“What?” Arlo sputtered. “Willa’s parents?”

“Yes,” Braxton said, clearly unsure what Arlo meant in clarifying that. Willa knew though that her grandfather’s brothers all had extensive families to whom her family never spoke. The Other Gamps, as her father called them. Her grandfather had made quite a bit of money and not shared any of it with his siblings. After his death, her father made it clear none of them would see a knut and that closed off those relations for good.

“I did not think your families knew each other?” Clement asked.

“Nor did I.” Braxton said.

_Nor did I!_ Willa thought. More to the point, she knew her father would never give away money to anyone, not even his own uncles. Therefore, unless Braxton or his father was lying, it had to be her mother. Unfortunately, there was no way to verify it without her father intercepting the letter.

“They have plenty of money though.” Arlo shrugged. “More than the Malfoys from what I heard.”

“Willa does not act like it.” Braxton said quietly, to himself.

“Will you tell her?” Clement asked.

“No, my father told me to burn the letter and forbade me from telling her, Quintus, and Octavia, as if I speak to those two.” Braxton rolled his eyes. “Besides, she would see me differently. She would think I am only being nice because I feel indebted to her.”

“What if she suggested the idea to her family?” Clement said. “I did tell her about your family’s situation over a month ago.”

“No, my father wrote that it had been coming in since my mother was sent to Azkaban.” Braxton said. “Even the money from Mr. Malfoy. I do not know why he waited to tell me all of this.”

Willa began to panic as Arlo slid fully onto the couch, saying through another yawn, “Probably because you are actually going to make it to Beauxbatons and he did not want you to worry whether or not he could afford to send you.”

Willa pulled her legs into her chest to avoid touching Arlo and focused best she could so the Disillusionment charm would not dissolve. Once she felt in control again, she began to ask herself several pointed questions.

Why would her mother risk so much to help the Bagshots? A family she never once mentioned to Willa and still did not comment on when Willa brought up Braxton in a letter to her. Had she been friends with Mrs. Bagshot? She debated asking Septimus in her response to his new letter. Of course, if she brought that up, she would have to ask him about why _he_ was paying Mr. Bagshot a monthly stipend. He said he intended to remain honest with her, but still, it felt impertinent to ask such a thing. Made more so by the fact that Mr. Bagshot had told Braxton to burn the letter of evidence.

The sudden weight of Arlo’s slumbering head on her feet immediately brought her back to the present as Clement’s laughter peeled through the room. Her charm clearly remained in place as Clement did not react to her at all, despite his proximity. Instead he pulled his friend up and Braxton came over to help, slapping Arlo’s face lightly to try to wake him up.

“Did he take a sleeping potion or something?” Braxton asked.

“No idea.” Clement laughed. “But he will be livid if we leave him in here overnight.”

They dragged their friend from the room and Willa finally breathed again once the door closed and she saw they were gone. After she allowed her nerves to calm for a few moments, she opened the letter from Septimus. It rearranged into English and she began to read.

> My Darling Willa,
> 
> I admit to my relief in finding your response confirm that you still wished to speak to me after my prior letter’s confessions and indulgences. I promise the next time we are alone enough to converse freely, I will tell you all I cannot convey in writing. As for your request, I am happy to merely speak to what is going on in my life, as much has transpired since I last wrote you.
> 
> I briefly returned to Paris to help Vincent. His _hôtel particulier_ was destroyed in the Muggle conflict and he was in desperate need of a friend. I told him to return to his Muggle father in the Vendée for the time being until we can determine a better solution.
> 
> My time there showed the agenda of the _Anti-Moldus_ has progressed. Disappearances have become common in the French wizarding community and _Le Socierer de Paris_ refuses to report things in totality. The paper is owned by Marcellus Lestrange, a man whom I do not trust, though his allegiances remain unconfirmed. Still, Vincent and those loyal to his _Pro-Moldus_ cause appear outnumbered at the moment. We have suspicions of who is involved, based on political and social histories, but we cannot pinpoint their leader. Vincent wishes to launch a plot to draw them out, but I believe a more peaceful approach remains possible.
> 
> The stance _la ministre,_ Violette Lavoie, appears to have taken on all this is total apathy. It infuriates me that the minister herself cannot take the side to save lives. You would never guess she has Muggle blood in her ancestry. Vincent cannot even speak about her inaction due to how angry he becomes. I have not yet lost hope that a magical civil war will be avoided, but that flame dims more each day.
> 
> In happier news, two of my house elves have just had a baby. They are yet to name him, but are quite pleased and recovering in the Manor with all the other house elves excepting Hobney, who helps me at Grosvenor Square. Your uncle, Castor Black, always remarks on my number of house elves as though they are a symbol of wealth, but truly I have inherited them all or they procreated under my family’s care. The eldest, Dobbins, was my grandfather’s, and he is too old for anything these days, but still such a great friend. My most loyal advisor over the years. He is the one who showed you through the kitchens at the Manor.
> 
> Octavia sent me several owls about the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, mostly asking for money of course, but I do hope your visit to the village was diverting. I fear I know too little about your daily life, so perhaps your response can indulge me to such details?
> 
> I miss you dearly. I admit I find myself longing for your companionship most days. Your brilliant smile presses into my mind each night as I lie awake, attempting sleep. I hope to hear from you soon.
> 
> Very Truly Yours,
> 
> Percival

 


	11. Happy Returns

"Today I thought we could have some fun for your lesson." Willa said, leading Charlotte Avery towards the Forbidden Forest. It was Sunday afternoon, the day after she beat Georgiana Winks and qualified for entry into the Triwizard Tournament and a week after the Hogsmeade weekend.

Willa had offered to be Charlotte's tutor after the first week of school so Elnath would not have to, given Charlotte's older sister had essentially stolen Quintus from her. Their prior lessons mostly had been on transfigurations and charms, where Charlotte struggled. Willa decided fresh air might give the first year a needed break and allow her to concentrate her magic better. Plus she learned Charlotte excelled in flying lessons.

"I cannot enter the forest as a first year." Charlotte said, stopping in her tracks.

"You are with me, and I am helping Professor Stump care for some magical creatures." Willa said and smiled reassuringly at the girl. "Come on."

Charlotte smiled back, excited to circumvent the first year's restriction. The sun was bright for late October and filtered its way through the upper layer of evergreens as they pushed into the forest's depths where the thestrals liked to congregate. Willa discovered from Octavia's gossip the Averys all saw their grandmother die, so she felt confident Charlotte would be able to see the creatures. Her expectations were rewarded when Charlotte let forth a gasp as some thestrals walked into view.

"Oh but what are they, Miss Wilhelmina?" she marveled.

"Thestrals. The gentlest of the winged horse family. Though the least popular." Willa explained.

"Why?"

"Only those who have witnessed death can see them." Willa explained. "And their appearance is a bit startling."

"My sister told me about creatures like these, but not what they looked like." Charlotte nodded.

"Come help me feed them." Willa led them closer, Charlotte mimicking her quiet, calm movements. Soon they were surrounded by ten or so thestrals, all clamoring for the raw meat Willa carried in her sack.

"Watch me first, then you have a go." She said to Charlotte as she pulled out a piece of meat and carefully held it out to a thestral. The creature consumed it with haste and Willa gave Charlotte a piece to try with. "There you are, flat palms so it does not bite your fingers."

Charlotte fed the thestral with success and Willa was praising her when the group all scattered. Willa instinctively pulled out her wand and yanked Charlotte close to her. She relaxed as Braxton landed the thestral he called Mooks in a heavy thud of hooves.

He dismounted easily and walked over to Willa with a bright smile, which turned more serious as he asked, "How is Elnath?"

"She is well." Willa replied simply as she moved aside so he could see Charlotte was there.

She and Braxton had seen quite a bit of each other that week, forming a close friendship after their adventure in Hog's Head. They had spoken endlessly about so many things it was hard to keep track: Quidditch techniques, coursework differences between Ilvermorny and Hogwarts, their opinions on Rigel and Clement's relationship, their mutual distaste for pumpkin juice and shared confusion as to its ingredients.

On Friday's walk from Care of Magical Creatures to Divination, they even discussed how Ciaran and Bethany died. Willa, for her part, only gave the official story, but Braxton shared more than she anticipated, explaining how his mother had hexed all of his family members. How he had been strong enough to block it and disarm her, then save everyone except for Bethany because she did not have magical blood. Willa, at the time, assured him her death was not his fault, and he admitted no one besides her ever thought to say so.

Braxton now nodded to Willa to indicate he understood Elnath and blood magic were out of bounds topics in front of Charlotte, and said, "I think we can add Mooks to the roster."

"Oh good." Willa smiled, looking Mooks over for any signs of fatigue. He looked ready for another flight. Willa handed Braxton a piece of meat to give Mooks and said, "We are going to test Swift out again."

"We are going to fly?" Charlotte squeaked with delight.

"Yes," Willa brightened at her reaction. "Professor Stump asked me and Mr. Bagshot to choose a team of six thestrals to carry the Hogwarts carriage to Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament. Since you are coming to France with us, I thought you might like to help."

Braxton, Catherine, and Quintus had all won their duels Saturday and thus too qualified to go to Beauxbatons and enter their names in the Goblet of Fire. Catherine made it clear she would bring Charlotte as her support person should she pass the trials.

"With Mooks we have four, five if you two decide Swift qualifies." Braxton added to Charlotte after feeding Mooks. He used a Vanishing spell to clean off the meat's blood from his hand and smiled to both Slytherins saying, "I am heading in. Have fun with Swift."

Once Braxton was out of earshot, Charlotte said to Willa, "Catherine says she always feels he is very sad. That I should be nice to him because he is so sad."

"What do you mean she _feels_ he is sad?" Willa asked.

"Oh, she can feel others' emotions. She is an empath. It runs in our family. Our mother is one, too. Makes it very difficult to lie." Charlotte explained.

"I have never heard of empaths before. How fascinating." Willa remarked.

"Yes, when I said you were my tutor, she told me you have more emotions than anyone she encountered before." Charlotte said. "Sorry, was that rude to say?"

Willa laughed, "Probably, but I do not mind. It is very accurate."

Charlotte laughed and relaxed, and together they used up most of the meat feeding thestrals until it was time to introduce Charlotte to Swift. She was one of the largest in the herd and towered over the young girl's small frame.

"First she needs to meet you, build trust." Willa explained and held out her hand to pet Swift's muzzle. "Follow what I do."

Charlotte too reached up her arm, though she was too short to reach Swift. Willa guided the thestral down to meet Charlotte, slowly and calmly.

"This is Charlotte, Swift." She said.

The thestral nudged into Charlotte's hand, sniffing it a few times as Charlotte said softly, "Hello, Swift."

Swift moved closer, resting her muzzle on Charlotte's shoulder as the girl pet her repetitively and giggled.

"I think she really likes you." Willa said with a quiet laugh as to not alarm the creature. She looked to Swift and added, "What do you say, girl? Ready for a ride?"

Swift's eyes were intelligent, one of the main reasons Willa preferred her over the others. She gave Willa a consenting look and further lowered herself so they would be able to mount her. Willa got on first, throwing a leg over Swift's smooth back and reached down to help pull Charlotte onto the thestral. She mounted with ease, clearly used to riding a broom, and sat upright in front of Willa.

"Now tighten your stomach to balance, just like on a broom." Willa told her and tapped Swift with her heel. The thestral stood quickly. "All good?"

"Yes,"

"Swift, fly." Willa commanded, tapping both her heels this time.

Swift launched into take off and Charlotte gave a delighted squeal. In seconds they were above the tree line, the sun bright on their faces. Willa guided the thestral towards the Great Lake, taking them to a hidden lagoon she had discovered the other week.

"This is incredible." Charlotte cried through the wind.

"Anywhere you want to go?"

"The Quidditch Pitch!"

"Okay, you fly us there. You want to tap with your heels to guide her left or right." Willa explained.

Charlotte tried, but her legs were too short to reach the right place on Swift's midsection, so Willa helped without telling her.

As Swift switched directions Charlotte exclaimed, "I am flying a thestral!" Willa smiled as Charlotte continued, "This is so perfect. Thank you, Miss Wilhelmina."

"You are welcome." Willa replied, feeling touched. She relaxed into the smooth flight to the other side of the grounds, allowing her mind to wander to Septimus and how she might capture the feeling of this moment in a drawing for him.

* * *

Two days later October 23 arrived and with it came Willa's seventeenth birthday. Rigel had joked the night prior nothing felt different when he turned seventeen, but the same could not be said for Willa. From the moment she woke that morning, the reality of freedom from her father hit her like a sunbeam emerges from parted clouds after a rainstorm. Her life now was different. She now was an adult witch. That change alone would be enough of a gift to satisfy her, but her cousins were quick to lavish her with presents before she could leave the common room for breakfast.

Elnath presented her with a beautiful new silk scarf, green and silver, for her to bring as luck to Beauxbatons. Rigel gave her a sleek, mahogany wand sheath for use in formal and professional occasions, remarking he had the wood ordered special from the Americas. Then Elnath presented her with a gift from her mother, one Elnath's mother had to send because it was in her and Uncle Castor's possession. Willa opened the beautifully wrapped package to find a key to the Gamp family vault in Gringotts. Her name was etched into the Goblin-wrought silver stem, a gold chain thread through its handle. The note inside the package read:

> My dearest daughter,
> 
> Now that you are grown, I wish for you to have access to what is rightfully yours. While the laws state you cannot come into your trust until age twenty-one, keep this as a symbol of our faith in you and love for you.
> 
> All the best,
> 
> Your mother, Dipsas

Willa read the note several times, noticing on her third read the 'o' in the word 'our' looked odd. As if her mother had begun to write 'my' instead but decided to change it. She let out a small sigh, realizing her father had been watching, critiquing the gift ought to come too from him. It was his money, after all. The ink smear served as a reminder that as long as her mother remained with him, she would never be entirely free of her father.

Elnath reached out to hold her cousin's hand, sensing a wave of sadness had overcome her. After a moment of loud silence Elnath said, "I am starved. Let us go down to breakfast."

Nothing was different about the Great Hall that morning, but it felt different to Willa. With her Gringotts key safely hung around her neck, tucked into her undergown, she felt powerful. She always knew her father came from wealth, but since he never showed extravagance, especially not in America, she did not comprehend the level of wealth to which they belonged. Only in August, when she saw inside the family vault, did she fully understand they were the wealthiest family in Britain. Now she possessed the key to that vault, a key that bore her name, the sole heir to the fortune. It made her future feel bright and the Great Hall feel small, a fleeting detail on her pathway forward.

No more than ten minutes had passed when the morning owls arrived. Elnath received a letter from her mother and Willa became delighted when Percival's owl landed beside her. She was unsure if Septimus would send her something, not that she expected anything, but the thrill of the surprise proved she had been hoping for him to remember her birthday.

His owl carried a small square package and a thick letter, and permitted Willa to pet her and feed her a bit of sausage. This should have been a clue to Willa the package was valuable, but she mostly thought the owl finally warmed to her. After tucking the letter into her dress, she was about to put away the package to open later when Elnath protested, "No way, I want to see what he gave you."

Willa admitted to herself she did too and flashed her cousin a grin as she tore open the package. In it was a note and an intricately carved ivory box. She opened the note, which was not protected by their scrambling enchantment and thus fully legible to Elnath. It read:

> My darling Wilhelmina,
> 
> Many happy returns! For such a significant day, I needed to present you with something to complement your illustrious beauty. I have provided more details on its origin and meaning in my letter.
> 
> With all my heart,
> 
> Your Percival

"Does he always talk like that?" Elnath giggled.

"It has become more frequent. Why?" Willa asked.

"He seems very in love with you." She teased, causing a flutter of nerves to penetrate Willa.

"Yes, well, he does not want for confidence." Willa smiled, though she was unsure if she would say Septimus was very in love with her. In constant desire of communication with her, yes. Incredibly open and honest with her and nobody else, yes. Forthcoming about his intense and immediate romantic inclinations towards her, yes. But until he declared himself in love with her, Willa determined she would not think on it, so she chose now instead to appreciate his gift to her.

As she examined the box more closely, assuming it was in fact his gift to her, she noticed a hinge on one side of it. When she pushed the lid open, Elnath let out a gasp at its contents and Willa's mouth fell agape. Inside was an emerald ring. The green gemstone, at least 1.5 carats in weight, was set against a Celtic love knot made of white gold and diamonds that twisted to form a band.

" _Very_ in love." Elnath managed, still in shock at the extravagance of the gift.

"It is stunning." Willa said. She pulled it from the box and examined it closer, allowing the light to play off the gemstones. She slid it onto her right hand's ring finger and it magically tightened to a snug, comfortable fit. She smiled, her eyes still on the ring as she added, "Absolutely perfect."

And it was. Willa never received such a perfect gift before. Its value having nothing to do with why she loved it so much. It was Septimus' attention to detail. The clarity of the stone and precision of its cut. The color of the green made deeper by the cut to better complement her auburn hair. The choice of white instead of yellow gold. The size and spacing of the small white diamonds. The nod to her Irish roots. The unique packaging of the ivory box, foreign to every place Willa had visited or lived. Intentionally exotic. The ring itself was tastefully sized. Big enough to clearly demonstrate his wealth and desire to share some of that with her, but small enough to fit her hand appropriately. There was nothing ostentatious to it, despite how stunning it was. She felt so understood by him; it made her feel whole.

"Well now you have to finally tell me about this gentleman of yours." Elnath said, leaning closer to look at the ring more. "And if he is independently wealthy or simply from money like us."

"Both," Willa said with a laugh to herself. "But you are yet to tell me about being escorted back to the common room by Grogan on Saturday night."

"How did you…?" Elnath asked, blushing fully.

"Rigel saw you when he was leaving Salazar's Study." Willa grinned, not adding that Rigel had been with Clement at the time.

"That little sneak!" Elnath protested.

Willa gave her a look and baited her with, "So you apologized like I suggested?"

"Well, not exactly, no. I mean, yes, I did apologize, but last week, on Monday after class." Elnath said. "No, Saturday I went to ask him hypothetically about basilisk gestation, you know, for research."

"Yes, of course." Willa nodded and ate more of her breakfast, distracted by her shiny new emerald momentarily as she stabbed a sausage link.

"Well, he had a lot to say on the topic, and he wanted to discuss what happened in Hog's Head more, make sure I am all right. I assured him I was, but he seemed hesitant to believe me." She sighed.

"He worries for your safety." Willa shrugged.

"Right. Well, he definitely does because I stayed so long it was dark, and he insisted he walk me back so I would not get in trouble for being out of the castle after dark." Elnath said.

"All the way back to the dungeon?" Willa pressed.

"'Out of the common room after dark' is what he actually said." Elnath smiled mischievously as she added, "I did not remind him I am a prefect."

"Quite unnecessary to remind him of that." Willa grinned.

"That is all there is to the story." Elnath said.

"No it is not. What did he do at the dungeon door? Did you even lead him to the door?" Willa asked remembering it was semi-hidden.

"He knew where it was. He led me, really." Elnath said. "He said goodnight, gave me a nod, and left."

Willa nodded, only halfway believing her cousin.

Elnath had left out the long moment she and Grogan had stood in front the dungeon door awkwardly concluding they were at their destination and he should head back to his cottage. It had ended with him running his fingertips from her shoulder down to her elbow and back again a few times and Elnath had seriously wondered if he was going to kiss her. He did not though, removing his hand from her sleeve and saying softly, "Goodnight, Elnath."

"Now you know my story. Let us finally hear yours." Elnath said smugly. "How did you meet this Percival?"

"Through my father's work, indirectly. We were at the same event. He called on me a few times after, but I was moving here and he was posted to Paris." Willa explained.

"He called on you three times and you did not think it was serious until he wrote you here?" Elnath asked, "Why would you doubt his affection after so much attention?"

Willa shrugged, glad Elnath had not already pieced together the logic flaws in the lie she had just told. There would have been no time for this fake man to call on her more than once. She finished Ilvermorny in late June and within days they were on the boat for Dublin.

"Do you think he will ask you to marry him?" Elnath asked quietly.

Willa did not know what to say. The idea seemed irrational and exactly what she desired all at once. It felt, however, too dishonest to give any sort of answer to Elnath without being forthcoming about Percival's real identity. As she collected her thoughts, Quintus paused in front of them.

"Such a beautiful ring, Willa." he said.

Willa's heart jumped, wondering if he somehow knew who truly sent it. When she looked up at him though, she saw his face was earnest, so she relaxed and smiled at his compliment.

"Thank you. It was a gift for my birthday." She said.

"Oh, happy returns!" he said.

"Thank you," Willa said.

"Your father was in the gem trade, was he not? What would you say it is worth?" Elnath asked Quintus with candor.

Willa blushed and said, "Really it is not necessary. The value does not matter to me."

"I want to know." Elnath shrugged. "If it does not matter to you, then you will not mind knowing."

Willa rolled her eyes at this logic, but held out her right hand to Quintus when he asked, "May I?"

After some scrutiny he said, "On the emerald's size and apparent clarity alone, at minimum 215 galleons, but I cannot fully appraise it without equipment. This emerald reminds me of one of my father's most prized gems though. He got it in India, I believe. I remember he told me he was saving it for someone who would appreciate its beauty as much as he did."

Quintus' expression bore nostalgia before he met Willa's eye, gently dropping her hand.

"Perhaps that gem had a pair." Willa managed, implementing occlumency in full force.

"Yes, of course." Quintus laughed. "Obviously I was not implying my father gave you that ring."

Willa laughed as well, which prompted Elnath to laugh. Quintus gave them both a nod and left.

"215 galleons? The professors only make 400 each year." Elnath murmured once he was gone. She lowered her voice and said, "You did not answer me yet about the prospect of marriage."

Willa hesitated, considering for the briefest of moments to tell her cousin the truth about Percival's identity. Then Elnath opened her mouth again and consequently removed any desire Willa had to be honest with her.

"I cannot believe though," Elnath fell into a laugh, interrupting her own sentence. "Sorry, I cannot believe he would even insinuate his father would present you with any gift at all. That would be so…"

Elnath drank some pumpkin juice, amused still with her current thought.

"It would be so… what?" Willa pressed.

Elnath swallowed and looked once at the faculty table, directly at Grogan. "Mr. Malfoy is so old. The same age as our parents."

"He is younger than our parents." Willa pointed out.

"Hardly," Elnath shrugged. "He is older than Uncle Corvinus."

Willa refrained from comment despite how much she wanted to say about Uncle Corvinus being nothing like Septimus. Her anger was building and she needed to leave before it exploded.

"I should go. I told Braxton I would meet him before class today to go over our final picks for the thestral fleet." She said, wrapping the ivory box in its packaging to protect it before slipping it into her bag. "I will see you in Charms."

"Oh, that reminds me." Elnath said in a flat tone.

"What?"

"People have been…talking." Elnath said, throwing a few glances around to see who was listening. She leaned in and continued in Parseltongue, "About you and Braxton always being together."

"What about it?" Willa asked in Parseltongue.

"You know what." Elnath hissed with an eyeroll.

Willa balked at her, "I spend equal time with Clement and Rigel. Is anyone talking about that?"

Elnath rolled her eyes again. Willa had never told her cousin that her brother and Clement were together, but her reaction now made her wonder if she had pieced it together.

"Listen," Elnath said, switching back to English. "I merely am informing you about the gossip regarding your reputation. React how you wish. Of course their musings may be easier to negate now that you have a giant rock on your hand from another man."

Willa smirked and stood to go. In truth, she was not meeting Braxton at all. Her plan was to put away the ivory box in her dormitory so it would not get damaged during the school day. On her way out of the Great Hall, however, Braxton sidled up to her.

"Happy returns." He said, almost proudly. "I got you something."

"You should not have." Willa said, but smiled. "What is it?"

"It is a surprise. I have to take you to it." He said, clearly excited and nervous at once.

"It better not be a creature of some sort." Willa groaned. "Those thestrals are plenty to deal with."

"No, definitely not." He said.

"So, where are we going?" Willa asked, pushing a loose hair from her face.

"Did you just try to curse me using your hand? What was that green light?" Braxton stopped walking.

"What?" Willa said. "Oh, this?"

She held up her ring. Braxton whistled.

"From your parents?" he asked.

"No, from Percival." She said. "My parents are… less emotional than that."

"The man to whom you are attached gave you that?" Braxton asked, clearly shocked. More shocked than Elnath had been.

Willa realized the Bagshots probably thought 215 galleons was an outlandish amount of money, especially since she knew both Septimus and her mother were giving them money to live on. Their gifts weighed heavy around her hand and neck. Mortified at her insensitivity, she began to downplay the ring.

"It must be a family heirloom or something. I have not had time to read his letter yet." She said quickly.

"Stop." Braxton looked her in the eye. "It is beautiful and you deserve it."

"Thank you."

"But I will warn you my gift cannot compare to that one." He finished.

"I never planned to compare the two." Willa said pointedly.

"Good," he grinned, then motioned towards the stairwell. "Come on."

Eventually they reached the seventh floor and familiar troll ballerinas tapestry. Willa fought a laugh as she watched Braxton pace the wall three times. The door that always appeared for her did so now for him, and he pushed it open with gusto. She followed him in, her usual sitting space welcoming her, but without the writing desk. The habit of the room tugged at her, Septimus' new letter burning a hole in her chest, but she fought her urge to read it as Braxton led her to his piano room.

The piano room was different today than most days. Warmer. A fireplace was lit that usually never existed and various cushioned seating options were spread throughout the room.

"Are you expecting a large audience?" Willa asked.

"No, why?" Braxton frowned.

"This is the Room of Requirement, is it not? Why else would it determine you need so many seats?" she asked.

"You have been here before?" he asked, disappointment hinted in his voice.

Willa merely smiled, "This is not the gift, is it?"

"No, not at all. Unlike you, I dislike the publicity of the music room. So, I come play here."

Willa nodded and sat on the cushion in the best acoustic range of the piano while Braxton slid onto the piano stool.

"I wrote you a song." He said. "For your birthday. That is my gift."

"Do play it then." Willa grinned.

He began to play and Willa recognized it immediately as the song he had played for Clement and Arlo two weekends prior. She sat through it, enjoying it once more as she tried not to think of the conversation following the first instance she heard it. By the time Braxton finished the song, however, Willa could only think of his denial of feelings for her and Elnath's warning of the gossip surrounding them. She knew this was the moment they had to discuss it.

Braxton finished the final note. He looked to her, his expression asking for her thoughts about his song.

"It was beautiful." She smiled briefly.

"What is it?" Braxton asked, sensing she was upset and walking to her until he stood over her, a tower of tanned flesh and black robes.

"Braxton," Willa started awkwardly. She had never been in this situation before. "I need to talk to you."

He sat beside her, pulling one his long legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knee. It was exactly the way Ciaran used to sit on the couch in the Ilvermorny tea room where she would meet him on Friday after classes to catch up from the week. Suddenly all Willa could think was, "I killed him." It was on the tip of her tongue, ready to confess itself. Clawing at her insides to get out. A burning sensation within her.

Braxton stared at her patiently, waiting for her to speak. But the only words she could think were these three she could never say aloud to anyone. Anyone but Septimus.

Instead she began to cry.

Braxton did not react immediately, hesitating before he shifted closer to her to say, "You are safe here."

Willa knew nowhere was safe for this confession. Eventually her thoughts pulsed so greatly towards Septimus, her longing to be with him in confidence and finally confess her murder aloud, she was able to speak again.

"I apologize. My emotions overcame me without warning." She composed her tears. "I wanted to say we are the subject of rumor. Our reputations are at risk."

"I have heard." Braxton said flatly, surprised something as trivial as gossip triggered such a reaction. He shifted so she would look at him before he continued, "You must know though, surely you must, that I am not interested in you romantically. I feel… I feel our bond is much deeper than that. As though we are…"

"Siblings?" Willa offered.

"Yes, precisely." Braxton nodded.

"Why would you write me such a song then?" she asked quietly.

"Because I care for you." He said. "In truth, it is a combination of a song I had begun to write for Bethany and a new composition that came to me after Hogsmeade. Almost as if spending time with you helped spur the inspiration I needed to finalize the song."

Willa took a long breath, "I do not know what to say."

"I did not think someone like you could exist. There is nothing to be said."

They smiled at one another a long moment before Braxton announced, "I do not wish to threaten your reputation, of course. How should we handle that?"

"Clement and Arlo could help set that straight, instead of tease you about it." Willa said.

"True," Braxton replied.

"Clement especially. He should be helping you for keeping his secret." Willa pointed out.

"It should not have to be a secret." Braxton countered.

"That is not what I said."

"You implied it though."

"No, you presumed." Willa said, sitting up straighter. "Or have you forgotten it is my cousin with far higher prospects than our mutual friend who is on the other end of that relationship?"

"I had not forgotten." Braxton said tightly. "However, what I said was their love should not have to be kept secret. Society again proves itself unfair."

"Society will never prove itself fair. You should not hold your breath." Willa said.

"I quit doing so long ago." Braxton replied.

"Only this spring, I presume." Willa said in a reference to his mother's arrest. She immediately regretted her words, but it was too late.

"Had enough fun then?" Braxton said angrily, standing in one swift movement.

"Braxton," Willa began, but he was already to the inside door. As he marched through to the exit she whispered out, "I am sorry."

The door to the Room of Requirement slammed shut and she sat in silence to digest her mistake before opening Septimus' letter. She had to stop reading just as soon as she began, too distracted by her recent fight with Braxton to focus properly on Septimus' words.

She tucked the letter away and gathered her things, admiring her beautiful ring once more before leaving the room. If she hurried, she might be on time for Charms.


	12. Priori Incantatem

Midway through Charms class, after Professor Ingerson began making rounds to grade everyone’s mastery of the charm, Elnath leaned into Willa to whisper in Parseltongue, “What did you do to Bagshot?”

He and Arlo were essentially right next to them, close enough to understand them if they were to speak in English.

“We had a fight.” Willa said, also in Parseltongue.

“Let me guess, he saw your ring and finally realized you are entirely out of his league?” Elnath asked.

“Something like that.” Willa said, knowing when she reminded Braxton of Rigel’s superior class compared to Clement’s, he likely took it as her reminding him of her own superior class compared to his. Still, she should not have mentioned his sister’s death and mother’s imprisonment the way she had.

She snuck a glance at Braxton to gauge how angry he remained. His focus lied with his charm work, his blue eyes intense but his wand movements sloppy. Willa realized he was about to cause an explosion before he did, so she issued a counter-spell to dampen it. Braxton turned to her sharply.

“I do not need _your_ help.” He practically spat at her.

“No one should be helping anyone else. We are mastering the charm, not doing the work for others.” Professor Ingerson said in a loud, stern voice.

“If you are not careful, you will get yourself disqualified from going to Beauxbatons for cheating in class.” Braxton continued in a hushed, haughty voice once the professor went back to grading a Hufflepuff student. His eyes darted pointedly to Elnath then back to Willa as he added, “Or were you quite certain the rules did not apply to you, Miss Gamp?”

Willa stared at him in muted shock. He had directly quoted Grogan’s comment to Elnath outside Hog’s Head, even though he knew Elnath had no idea that he was there to hear it.

“What did he just say?” Elnath asked in Parseltongue. Clearly she had noticed the similarity of his statement.

“Something he is going to regret.” Willa replied to her cousin in Parseltongue before turning back to Braxton.

“Is this your goal then, to prevent me from entering the Triwizard Tournament?” she asked.

“Achieve by any means. Is that not the Slytherin way?” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

A patronizing smile crossed Willa's lips while she used her right hand to play with the clasp on her robe, so he would be forced to look at her emerald ring when she said, “Perhaps I will write my family about this.”

Braxton stiffened. Arlo now paid full attention, his wand no longer performing the charm work, but turning on her. She could feel Elnath’s presence behind her, presumably acting as her second against Arlo. Willa did not stop, determined to show Braxton how ‘the Slytherin way’ really looked. She put her right hand on Braxton’s wrist, coaxing it lightly, the way a disappointed parent would. He could not help but stare at the emerald a moment before angrily meeting her eyes.

“Or maybe instead,” she whispered through a false smile and blazing eyes, “I will send an owl to my friend, Mr. Malfoy, as it will arrive sooner than the one to my mother.”

Braxton grew red, his skin heating up under her touch. She tightened her grip on him, using his arm for balance as she pushed up on her toes to better match his height. With a pause between each word, she said quite plainly, “Do not threaten me.”

Braxton shook with anger underneath her as Professor Ingerson approached them.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked.

Braxton snatched his wrist from Willa’s clutch as she turned to the professor with a calm expression, “We had a slight miscommunication, professor, but I believe we understand each other now.”

“I am glad to hear it. Let me see both your charms then.”

Willa went first, producing hers with ease, followed by Braxton who had no trouble this time. The professor nodded to them both, dotting her parchment with high marks beside their names, and turning next to Arlo for him to produce his charm. Before Arlo could begin though, a loud crash distracted everyone’s attention.

“Catherine!” Quintus cried from across the room, dropping his wand to kneel beside her collapsed body.

“It was too much all at once. I could not block it.” She said to him, then looked directly at Willa and Braxton.

 _Apparently, my and Braxton’s emotions are too much to handle right now,_ Willa thought wryly, remembering how Charlotte explained Catherine was an empath.

“I should take you to the Infirmary.” Quintus said. “You hit your head when you fell and you are bleeding.”

Catherine nodded vaguely as Professor Ingerson approached the couple, “Mr. Malfoy, I have not graded your charm yet. Someone else will need to take Miss Avery to the Infirmary.”

“I can do it, professor.” Willa said, stepping forward.

Quintus and Catherine looked at each, as if reading one another’s minds, before they both nodded.

“Yes, all right.” Professor Ingerson said impatiently, beckoning Willa over to them.

Quintus kissed Catherine lightly on the brow and helped her up as Willa approached.

“Thank you,” he said to Willa with a kind smile before he looked at Catherine to say, “I will come right after class.”

Catherine smiled at him warmly. Willa found their intimacy overbearing in its plethora of subtleties, mostly because it made her pine for Septimus. As she helped support Catherine’s weight walking her out of the Charms classroom, she wondered what the emotion of pining felt like to an empath. She laughed in her head as she realized her pining was made more complicated by the fact that it was for the father of the person to whom this empath was attached.

“Elnath is furious. You will need to speak to her afterward.” Catherine said once outside the classroom. Her voice sounded strong, as though she was not injured at all.

“Charlotte told me you are an empath.” Willa began, shifting her stance to see if Catherine could carry her own weight. She could, mostly, and Willa held out her arm for Catherine to rest on as needed instead. “I fear I caused you to collapse.”

“You did. Well, you and Braxton.” Catherine said. She said nothing for a stretch of hallway then added, “You are both very emotional. Painful emotions, too. I wish you could just come together.”

“What do you mean?”

“You both had started to change. To subside. It is difficult to explain my experience of it, but what I can explain is the more time you spent together, the less in pain you both became.”

Willa nodded, and despite not knowing or trusting Catherine at all, she admitted, “We had a fight today. I said something I should not have, and he stormed off.”

“Ah,” was all Catherine said.

The infirmary was not far from the Charms classroom and they soon arrived. As Catherine got checked in by the healer, Madame Leigheas, Willa turned to leave.

“Wait,” Catherine called to her. Willa turned and she said, “Stay a moment. There is no rush to return to class. You wanted to leave anyway.”

Willa smiled briefly, she had wanted to leave, but only to go to her dormitory to finish Septimus’ letter and put away the ivory box he gave her the ring in. And to get away from Braxton.

“I know we never talk because of Elnath, but I do think we should get to know one another.” Catherine said with frankness. Before Willa could ask why, the Ravenclaw answered, “We are both going to Beauxbatons after all.”

Willa agreed to stay and Madame Leigheas began to treat Catherine’s wound.

“Feel any better?” Willa asked once the healer had finished and retreated to her office.

“Now there is more pain.” Catherine said with a light laugh. “All part of the healing process though.”

“Yes,” Willa agreed. There was a long silence before she asked, “What more do you wish to know about me?"

“Oh,” Catherine began. She looked around to confirm they remained alone before saying, “Your emotions always change dramatically around Quintus. I wondered if you… if you are attracted to him?”

“To Quintus?” Willa exclaimed, so shocked she was unable to mask the disgust she felt on the matter. She composed herself to say resolutely, “No.”

Catherine let out a sigh of relief and said, “He assured me you were not, but I had to hear it for myself.”

“No, please be assured that I am not, never was, and never shall be attracted to Quintus.” Willa said. Her thoughts naturally migrated to Septimus, and she felt herself warm.

“Whoever you are thinking of right now certainly makes you very happy.” Catherine remarked.

“Yes, he does.” Willa smiled and looked down at the ring he gave her. “Percival he is called. We are attached.”

“He must be a good man, you trust him. I can sense it.” Catherine said, pausing before she added, “You do not trust many people, like me, for example.”

“No, I do not trust you. I hardly know you.” Willa replied. “I am not easily trusting of people in general.”

“Why not?”

The image of her father burst into her mind. He was telling her how magic was superior and anyone who said differently was a traitor to their kind. The memory formed more clearly and she realized she had blocked it from her mind. It was a month before they moved to America, and they were in their Dublin home. He had begun to yell out, “Traitor! A traitor!” as he swayed and stumbled in drunkenness. Willa had never seen him drunk before.

He began to murmur out, “Lila recognizes this. She understands this truth. I think I will miss her the most. And one day,” he spun around and looked an eight-year old Willa in the eye, “One day you will understand, too.” He knelt in front of her with a loose smile and warm eyes, and said, “I see it in your eyes, you know. The righteousness. Your mother and brother do not have it, no, but you. Oh, you and I, Willa, we are special. We are pure.” He embraced her tight to his chest and kissed the top of her head. In the memory Willa had never felt happier, but now the mere thought of her father’s embrace sent chills down her spine.

“Stop, please stop.” Catherine was gasping for air, her hand clenched painfully tight around Willa’s arm. The dark emotions about her father, about her past, had been too much for Catherine.

“I must go.” Willa whispered, standing quickly. “Forgive me.”

She was almost at a run by the time she reached the stairwell. Her legs carried her downwards, directly to Salazar’s Study, and she slammed the door shut and put down all of her things on the floor. She tore off her robes and undid her stay so she could breathe without restriction. Without it tightened, Septimus’ letter fell through her dress to the floor. Ignoring the letter, she collapsed to her knees as she let out an angry scream.

“I am not evil.” She growled out into the empty chamber. She said it again, louder. Finally, she screamed it. She breathed unsteadily for a few moments, staring into nothing, before she whispered into the air, “But that is a lie.” She was evil. Someone who killed their own brother for loving a No-Maj was evil. Her father had been right about her all along.

She closed her eyes and pushed all these thoughts from her mind, banishing the memory back to wherever it had been stored before. When she reopened her eyes, the mask she wore for everyone was back on. She picked Septimus’ letter off the stone floor, recounting how Catherine could feel her happiness when she thought of him, and sat in her ancestor’s heavy desk chair to read.

 

> My perfect Wilhelmina,
> 
> Again, I wish you many happy returns. Before I share more about my gift to you, I had to remark on how much more interesting your daily life at Hogwarts is than mine ever was. I recall revising far more than anything like your adventure in Hogsmeade. Still, I know your Uncle Corvinus and he is not the same man he was at Hogwarts. He is unbalanced now, and I hope for all your sakes he heeds Professor Stump’s command and does not return to Hogsmeade. Not that you will be there much longer, for as I hear it, you have qualified for the trip to Beauxbatons. I congratulate you on that, not that I held any doubts you would qualify.
> 
> As for the gift, the ivory box is old. A souvenir picked up for me from my grandfather’s time at Uagadou. I have always found it beautiful. The ring is of my own design. I find it amusing how items seem to wait for the right moment, and it is exactly the case with the emerald. It came into my possession nearly a decade ago and it never felt right to sell it. I wanted it for myself, but no setting made sense for both me and the stone.
> 
> I found myself content to stare at it for hours, marveling at its complex perfection. It always brought me a very specific dual sense of peace and excitement. When I first saw you, I felt these same emotions. Only when packing for Paris and seeing the emerald for the first time in years, did I realize why what I felt upon seeing you was so familiar to me. I knew then it would be yours, should things progress to an appropriate point to give you such a gift. Perhaps you disagree we have arrived at that point, hopefully not.
> 
> The design is personal as well as political. You may have been away from Ireland for too long to realize yet, but the tensions between our two birth countries continue to mount, especially between the Muggles with Theobald Wolfe Tone radicalizing a militia from Belfast.

Willa knew all about Wolfe Tone’s United Irishmen, as reports of their activities were used as propaganda in the Muggle pamphlets of Dublin she had collected in July during her clandestine excursions to the Muggle shopping centres while her parents attended to business in town. She continued Septimus’ letter, more curious about his choice of the Celtic love knot than Irish politics.

> I chose the love knot design for two reasons. First, to show I hold no ill will towards Ireland nor wish your identity to become less Irish. My foremost desire is that you remain true to yourself, whatever that means for you. Second, to symbolize the depth of my affection for you. That when you wear it, you will know my heart links to yours.
> 
> I hope you had a wonderful day full of celebration, for you are something to celebrate. I leave in a fortnight for Paris, so my owl will have less distance to travel as you will be in Beauxbatons by a week’s time. My intention is to continue on as the Ministry’s representative for the tournament, which should permit my attendance at all three tasks and perhaps some of the activities if I am persuasive enough. I do not want to make any promises though, as the tournament this year has become rather political in nature with Delphine Lestrange, Beauxbatons’ headmistress, refusing to discuss ceding hosting duties to Hogwarts or Durmstrang despite the violent unrest in France. Either way, I shall press to see you again as soon as possible. That I can promise.
> 
> With all my heart,
> 
> Septimus

Willa let out a breath as she ran her thumb over his name. His real name. She was not sure what to make of it, perhaps he intended her to keep this letter in particular as reference. As if she would ever forget anything he said in it. Even with time, she would be regaling the tale of the ring to their children often enough that she would not need to reference the letter.

Willa caught herself before that thought could manifest any further. Fantasies about a future with Septimus were too dangerous to indulge in, even if it felt safe to do so from his letters. Perhaps especially because it felt safe to do so. The last time she fantasized about a future with someone, it was running away with Ciaran back to Europe once he came of age. After they moved to Ohio and he fell in love with Opala, however, those plans no longer mattered to him.

* * *

 

Saturday arrived quickly and with it the final duels of the qualification round. Quintus and Braxton were to go first, then Willa and Catherine. Losers dueled next to determine third and fourth and winners dueled for the final. Willa was determined to win the whole thing and clearly so was Braxton. The two remained in their fight from Tuesday, despite that Willa had apologized the next day in Divination class.

Luckily Elnath was quick to forgive Willa for escorting Catherine to the Infirmary. At least after Willa explained she needed to get to know Catherine better so she could determine how to beat her in today’s duel. That method was to overwhelm Catherine with emotion and then strike while she was incapacitated. Elnath and Rigel both agreed this was within the rules, so Willa had been preparing.

That preparation appeared to be in vain however, as both Quintus and Catherine forfeited their duels stating they were content to enter the tournament itself and felt the order of entry did not matter.

“Quintus would never have forfeited last year.” Elnath remarked to Willa after this was announced.

“And?” Willa shrugged. “He is attached to Catherine now and clearly no longer the same person.”

“Do you defend him?” Elnath nearly snarled.

“No. I merely wish to help you see the forest for the trees.” Willa said and subtly turned Elnath towards the approaching Professor Stump.

“Fair choice of words.” Elnath mused quietly.

“Anticlimactic start to the day, is it not?” Professor Stump said with a warm smile as he reached them.

Elnath said nothing, nodding with a smile, so Willa replied, “Indeed. Excuse me, I need to speak with Professor Llewellyn about my final duel with Mr. Bagshot.”

Professor Stump gave her a polite nod and Willa floated away in the direction of Professor Llewellyn. Once a safe distance away, she turned to check on her cousin. Elnath had recovered and Grogan was laughing at whatever joke she had made. Willa smiled and wondered if it was fair to take Elnath away from him. She knew, though, Elnath cared far more about the potential of Nicholas Flamel’s personal instruction in alchemy than Grogan’s attentions.

“Ah, good that you are here, Miss Gamp.” Professor Llewellyn said as she approached. He stood with Braxton and motioned to him as he spoke. “I was just telling Mr. Bagshot that we hoped to move up your duel to now, if possible?”

Willa looked to Braxton, whose expression gave no emotion away. She smiled at Professor Llewellyn and said, “Yes, that is fine by me.”

“Splendid!” he said, then turned to corral the spectators.

Willa and Braxton took their places on the dueling platform wordlessly. She looked up to meet his eyes and cast legilimency at precisely the same time he cast it on her. She gave him a smirk and he thought to her, “Good luck.”

“I will not need luck.” Willa said softly as she reinforced her occlumency so Braxton could only access her foremost thoughts.

Professor Llewelyn joined them on the platform to go over the rules one last time and the crowd of students and staff pressed forward, eager for the two best duelers to show off. After everything was officially set, they began their ten paces and turned, wands meeting in equal yet opposing attacks. A strange sensation overcame Willa and she could read that Braxton was experiencing the same feeling.

 _“_ Priori incantantem!” they both thought at the same time.

The power of their wands’ twin cores battling the other’s attacking nature soon manifested in a show of light. A golden cage flooded upwards and outwards around them, encasing the pair in a locked battle of wills. Both determined to succeed over the other and both inside the other’s mind.

Willa took advantage first, pressing the memory of Clement and Rigel together in Salazar’s Study to the forefront of her mind. Braxton almost laughed but countered instead with a far more naked memory of the couple inside what Willa assumed to be the Gryffindor dormitories. The intimacy of it made Willa quickly realize this path had been a mistake as she fought to keep every thought of Septimus at bay. As she struggled to bury Septimus, she pondered on what would work against Braxton. She knew how to set off Catherine, perhaps that same flood of emotional pain would be what it took in this instance as well?

Before she could pursue the idea further, Braxton’s mind let forth a memory. She could not surmise if it was an intentional attack or if he could not control its release. Regardless, his wand did not relent its hold on hers, and Willa could now see Septimus’ face fill the frame of Braxton’s mind in the memory. It nearly rendered fruitless her prior efforts to bury him, but as she focused on Septimus’ face, she found him more exhausted than she had ever seen him. He appeared to search for something. Finally, his eyes locked onto Braxton’s, the subject of his search.

“My name is Mr. Septimus Malfoy, and I am with the Ministry of Magic. Can you tell me what happened here, son?” he asked while approaching Braxton, who cowered on the ground, face stained with dried tears. Braxton looked no younger than he did now and Willa realized this memory must be from the spring when Bethany died.

“She…my mother cursed us all.” Braxton whispered.

Willa could see he sat beside Bethany’s body. Septimus knelt to feel the girl’s cheek with the back of his hand before sliding his fingertips to check her pulse. He let out a sigh and Willa knew she was dead. It was the first time Willa had seen Bethany, and she bore a striking resemblance to Ciaran. Willa understood fully now why Braxton was reminded of Bethany when he looked at her.

“Where is your mother now?” Septimus asked gently.

“In the garden.” Braxton said and added, “Please do not hurt her. She is not herself.”

Willa could read the relief on Septimus’ face that Braxton’s mother was not dead, followed quickly thereafter by dark concern at Braxton’s explanation that was not herself. He then smiled warmly at Braxton and said, “I promise no harm will come to your mother. I am here to help her and your family.”

Willa could read clearly Braxton’s present emotional reaction to this comment: Betrayal. Septimus had not kept his promise.

A noise from the crowd in the Great Hall distracted both Braxton and Willa, allowing him to regain control of his mind and force away the sad memory. The noise was Catherine wailing, overwhelmed by Braxton’s emotions. Despite the distraction, the energy from their wands continued to surge. Willa pieced together a plan quickly and opened herself up to some of her worst memories. She had noticed in the last few weeks, all memories of her father were more accessible to her than when she lived in America. Things she had buried deep in order to protect the family name would now emerge at the slightest pressing, like what had happened with Catherine in the Infirmary.

Willa settled on one from two years prior and pulled it forward in all its despicableness. It took place in their Baltimore home’s parlor, her mother’s favorite room of what was the only house she could stand in America. The memory occurred at the time of Dorcus Twelvetrees’ hearing on the day in which Ciaran had to give testimony and Willa would be his character witness the following day.

Their participation in these hearings went rather against their father’s wishes, as he felt President Emily Rappaport should take harsher measures the presumed mixed-blood Twelvetrees family and leave such a prestigious name as Gamp out of it. As no one in MACUSA—or the Ministry of Magic, for that matter—knew Ardan Gamp was a devout purist, his distaste for the situation remained privy only to his family. And now, to Braxton Bagshot.

Ciaran’s testimony had not gone well, and the memory began when Ardan threw a sculpture of a Wampus against the wall beside their mother’s head and spun his attention to Ciaran as the porcelain shattered into a million pieces.

“You incompetent boy. Now we will need to move again.” Their father growled.

“Sorry,” Ciaran mumbled from his spot beside Willa on the loveseat.

“Do you hate your mother so much you sought to force her to move away from the only house she cared for in this pathetic excuse for a country?” Their father continued.

“Ardan, please, he is only a boy. He wanted to help.” Their mother interjected.

“Only a boy? He is nearly seventeen. You should be pleased he is not yet, as his prison sentence would be far longer.”

“Prison sentence?” Ciaran looked up, his eyes wide.

“Yes, the way you testified, it sounded like collusion with that wretched Twelvetrees girl.” Ardan sneered. His face softened as he looked to Willa, “Your sister will have much repair work to do in court tomorrow.”

He gave Willa an adoring smile and beckoned, “Come.”

Willa stood from the loveseat, rubbing Ciaran’s midsection subtly enough their father could not see. The siblings already knew what would happen next given how common it had become in their household.

Braxton, however, did not know yet. Willa hoped it would be enough to shock him into releasing his end of their wands’ connection.

“Ardan, not today, please.” Their mother begged.

Ardan cast a Silencing spell on his wife without even looking at her. His eyes remained on Willa. Once she stood beside him, he asked if she had her wand.

“Of course not, father.” She replied.

It was a test, as wands were only permitted on Ilvermorny grounds for underage students, and MACUSA tracked underage use of magic through wands, not wizards. It was a semi-flawed model that enabled an underage witch to borrow or steal a wand from an of-age witch without the magic use being traced. That is, if they could wield said wand.

“You can use mine.” Ardan gave her it as he always did. The wand only worked for him and her. Ciaran could not wield it; its power was too dark.

Willa took her father’s wand, its dark magic flowing painfully into her arm. He hooked his finger under her chin to make her meet his eyes. They burned into her with flat black intensity. She strengthened her occlumency in the memory as her father grinned in the maniacal way he only did when alone with his family.

“Today Ciaran proved he is a lost cause.” Ardan turned Willa to face her mother. “Your mother, however, seems to have forgotten she is a pureblood witch. She has forgotten who her ancestors are and what they sacrificed to protect our kind.”

Willa stood frozen in place in the formal room. He had never made her torture her mother before.

“Prove to me you are pure.” Her father said, sensing her hesitation.

Willa thought quickly and aimed the wand at her mother saying, “Crucio.” Nothing happened and so she tried again, this time with a little more flourish for show. Still nothing. She looked to her father, “The wand will not let me.”

Ardan gave her a cruel smile, one he typically reserved for Ciaran, and Willa braced herself for punishment. Instead he leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, “If you do not do this, I will kill her right here.” He stepped back and continued in a normal volume, “I will blame it on something, Dragon Pox, and no one will question me.”

Willa looked into his eyes. He was not lying. She wanted to kill him, both now and in the memory. If she could redo this moment in time, she would have. He had already taught her to use the Killing Curse by then. In the memory however, Willa turned the wand on her mother, who gave her a reassuring nod as a tear cascaded down her cheek. Willa let out a ragged breath, then cast the Cruciatus Curse. Her mother’s screams made no sound under Ardan’s Silencing spell.

It went against nature to harm her own mother, and the pain of this blasphemy reverberated into Willa through the wand. She allowed herself to feel it all again now, which she knew Braxton could feel through their mental connection. Catherine too could feel it, and her sobs filled the otherwise muted Great Hall.

Willa read into Braxton’s mind to determine if her plan was working. His thoughts were a mangled mess of shock, anger, and the one she was looking for: compassion. She played up the pain, collapsing to the dueling platform and letting out a scream. Braxton broke their wand’s connection and ran towards her. She could read that he planned to hold her and comfort her.

As the lights from priori incantantem distinguished, she looked up from the platform floor and found Quintus staring at her. His arms embraced a sobbing Catherine fully, but his pale blue eyes locked with hers. The moment before she turned towards Braxton, he gave her a small, knowing smile. She smiled back and then spun her body, wand out, and cast forcefully at Braxton, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

Braxton flew backwards and Willa stood up. She cast, “ _Expelliarmus_ ,” and then looked at Professor Llewelyn. The professor blinked in shock a few times, processing what he had seen. Never in his life had he witnessed priori incanantem from dual wand cores, and in his thirty-two years teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, he never encountered a more powerful, more cunning witch. Finally, he climbed onto the dueling platform to declare Willa the winner.

Willa smiled for the crowd’s cheers then went over to help Braxton to his feet. When she was leaned over, closest to him, he asked her quietly, “Was your memory real?”

“Why would I invent something that horrible?” Willa countered, gripping his hand and yanking it towards her.

“Was that common for you?”

“Usually it was on Ciaran, not my mother.” She admitted as Braxton got back on his feet.

“I do not know what to say. I feel terrible how I was angry at you all week when you have endured so much.” He said and looked her in the eye, “Can you forgive me?”

“I already have.” Willa shrugged. Braxton relaxed and she smirked to add, “Besides, now you believe that we have twin wand cores.”

Braxton laughed.

Headmaster Hayward climbed onto the platform and called Quintus and Catherine to join them after he shook Willa’s hand in congratulations. Quintus had to physically support Catherine, who was still recovering from the emotions of Willa and Braxton alike. Once all four were onstage, he held up his hands and the crowd fell silent.

“It has been a fine tournament with strong talent this year. I want to thank everyone who participated, and especially Professor Llewelyn for managing the duels with such grace and leadership.” Headmaster Hayward paused to applaud Professor Llewelyn’s efforts, joined quickly by the Hall’s polite ovation. After the noises died down he continued, “Now, we have our four delegates to Beauxbatons. Will you all join me in congratulating them and wishing them luck as they seek eternal glory in the Triwizard Tournament.”

The Great Hall erupted into cheers, even from those participants who failed miserably in their own duels. Willa beamed as she looked out on the crowd and took in the grandness of the vast hall. This moment proved the first time she felt truly connected to Hogwarts, and she wondered how Beauxbatons would compare. She found Elnath in the crowd, still between Rigel and Professor Stump, and met her proud blue eyes with her own.


	13. Journey to Beauxbatons

There was no sun in the sky the morning that the Hogwarts delegation was to leave for Beauxbatons. Looming gray clouds hung low and gave the air a thickness, the rain yet to begin. Braxton, Willa, and Charlotte arrived early to help Professor Stump harness their chosen thestrals while Mr. Norris oversaw the loading of the carriage by the house elves.

A formal sendoff had been held at breakfast by Headmaster Hayward and Professor Ingerson. She would take over headmistress duties while the headmaster was in France, the sole chaperone of the delegation.

"Feels like November already." Professor Stump remarked as he handed Braxton another harness. The date was the twenty-ninth of October.

"Yes, I look forward to the weather in the south of France." Braxton nodded as he slipped the harness in place over Mooks.

"I am not sure I will miss Hogwarts at all!" Charlotte cried happily as she helped Willa secure Swift's harness.

"Is it so terrible here?" Professor Stump joked.

"No, but I miss France." She shrugged.

"And you, Miss Gamp, are you glad to leave Hogwarts after being here so little time?" Professor Stump asked her.

As Willa looked up to respond, she saw Elnath approached the courtyard, alongside Rigel, who was accompanied by Clement and Arlo. Trailing them were Quintus and Catherine, who were in conversation with Headmaster Hayward. An informal sendoff had been permitted to friends and family members, who were allowed to miss their first class today to attend. Neither Braxton nor Quintus was bringing someone with them to France.

Willa caught Elnath's eye and the cousins waved at each other. Professor Stump followed Willa's wave to find its recipient as Willa finally replied to him, "Yes, I believe we will all miss Hogwarts in some form or another."

Professor Stump nodded, distracted by the approaching Elnath.

"The Headmaster approaches." Mr. Norris said to the house elves loading up the carriage. They immediately ceased work and stood at attention, one trying to force her crooked ear straight to no success.

"You look very presentable." Willa whispered to the nervous house elf. She looked at Willa wide-eyed and Willa gave her a reassuring nod before she moved to stand beside Professor Stump and Braxton. Charlotte followed Willa's lead. The Headmaster went to them, Arlo, Clement, Rigel, and Elnath close behind him, while Quintus and Catherine stopped beside the carriage.

Headmaster Hayward inspected the thestrals and gave Professor Stump an approving nod, "You have done an excellent job with the herd, professor."

"Thank you, sir, but the credit falls to Mr. Bagshot and Miss Gamp." Professor Stump replied.

The Headmaster nodded as he looked over Braxton and Willa. Finally he spoke, "It is a curious thing, death. Affects the living so profusely it has driven some mad."

Willa went quiet, certain he directed this at her, but Braxton responded with a confused, "Sir?"

"Ah, but I only mean to say the obsession to reverse death consumes many magical folk. Cadmus Peverell, for example. We would all do well to remember that one cannot restore life." The Headmaster's gaze migrated from the now quiet Braxton back to Willa as he added, "Not a true form of life any way."

Willa's heart raced under his scrutiny. She recounted the overheard conversation in the Room of Requirement between the troublesome trio about the resurrection stone. Perhaps this was all the Headmaster referenced? The three boys exchanged a nervous glance now, clearly all feeling their private conversation had not truly been so. Willa knew Elnath noticed this, despite that she acted entirely disinterested.

Willa could not shake that the headmaster's comment was entirely meant for her. Not a true form of life—not living, but not dead. Like a ghost, but not. Like whatever passed through her in the hidden wing of Malfoy Manor. Septimus still spoke about Lila in present tense. Had he used the resurrection stone on her? Was that even possible?

The Headmaster left them to speak with Mr. Norris. Once he was gone, Arlo and Clement went to Braxton to say goodbye, so Willa went to her cousins.

"You two are going to have all the fun without me." Rigel said with a silly pout after they stepped farther away from the troublesome trio.

Willa laughed and teased, "Yes, I should think so."

He embraced each girl and began to walk them to the carriage. Quintus was already onboard, having helped Catherine and Charlotte to board first, and Braxton was escorted soon after by Clement and Arlo, who both bid Willa good luck and Elnath farewell. Elnath nodded tightly at the two Gryffindors she disliked and turned to board the carriage. Grogan stood at its stairs by now and took Elnath's hand as she started to ascend them.

"Have a safe journey, Miss Black." He said.

"Thank you, sir." Elnath replied, lingering a moment on the top stair to look down at him, her hand still in his. "Good luck with the cockatrices."

"I am certain they will miss your expertise." Grogan replied.

"Yes, as I will miss them. Do give them my best." Elnath smiled and then let go of his hand and entered the carriage.

Willa looked once more to Rigel and said, "You must write her with updates."

He nodded, knowing she meant both about the basilisk and Professor Stump. They hugged once more and he helped Willa board.

* * *

Thirty minutes outside of Hogwarts, Headmaster Hayward called the group together to prepare them for the transition to France and their roles as delegates. He gathered them in the magically enlarged carriage's sitting area, which was adjacent to the dining area. These two areas made up a sort of common space between the headmaster's quarters and the student's bunks. The bunks shared an interior wall with each other, the girls' bunk on the left, its door leading into the sitting area, and the boys' on the right leading into the dining area.

The beds in their bunks were double stacked to fit four per room, even though only Quintus and Braxton would sleep in the boys' bunk. The bunks themselves were far less enlarged than the common space, a distortion, no doubt, to serve the need for more space in the room everyone would use most. The carriage itself had a pleasant warmth to it despite that the single fireplace in the sitting room was unlit. Willa wondered what type of magic the house elf used to create such an ambiance as she settled between Elnath and Braxton on one of the two couches.

"Before I speak on Beauxbatons, some housekeeping for our temporary home the next two days." Headmaster Hayward began, his arms folded comfortably behind his back as he paced the cozy space. "Bunks are off limits to opposite genders. Meals will be served together on the hour at eight, two, and seven with an informal tea at four. My quarters and the accompanying house elf's quarters are strictly out of bounds. We will make our overnight stop near Portsmouth to give the thestrals rest. Does anyone have questions?"

No one spoke or moved, so the headmaster nodded and his old face became animated, a glisten in his eyes.

"You all have been thoughtfully selected to represent not only Hogwarts, but magical Britain as well. In all my trips to Beauxbatons not once has the Hogwarts delegation let me down with their composure and grace in a foreign space. While I have no reason to doubt any of you, I caution you all to observe first before acting. This tournament falls at a precarious time for the French governments, magical and Muggle alike. Their country is at war, and though I have been assured our safety within the confines of Beauxbatons, I urge you all to remain alert and cautious. I expect compassion and patience from each one of you as you interact with the students and faculty of Beauxbatons. Let us show them the maturity and kindness of Britain and Hogwarts. Tell me, can I rely on you all to uphold these values through your behavior?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir" came from the group and the headmaster smiled and clapped his hands once, "Now, what is each of you most looking forward to at Beauxbatons?"

* * *

The nightmares surrounding Ciaran and Opala's deaths had mostly subsided for Willa. Never were they a reflection of what truly happened. It was on rare occasions that they resurfaced, usually if she was in an unfamiliar place. Tonight was one of those occasions.

Snow fell in the Ohio Country forest near the Muskingum River, she was keeping lookout and cold. Ciaran and Opala were kissing behind her against a tree, his coat wrapped around her body. In her dream, Willa realized they were likely doing more than kissing based on the movement of their bodies. She felt the pang of jealousy that Opala was taking him away from her. She could not stop watching them though.

The screams began from the village, the attack now called the Big Bottom Massacre had started, but Willa's attention remained on Ciaran and Opala, who seemed not to notice the noise. Then it happened. The flash of blinding green and a whooshing rush as a male voice growled out, " _Avada Kedavra!"_ Opala fell dead and Ciaran looked Willa in the eyes and whispered, "This is not your fault." Another flash of green. The life went from his eyes as Willa shot awake, yelping out a strangled noise.

She breathed hard, her pulse racing fast and her body drenched in sweat. A moment or two later she figured out she was on the carriage to Beauxbatons, stopped over in Portsmouth. She relaxed her breathing and then turned to see if she had woken Catherine who was on the bottom bunk opposite hers. Instead she found Braxton lying on his side in Catherine's bunk, his eyes open, staring at her. She gasped, startled by his presence and the intensity of his eyes. His expression softened and she frowned at him as if to ask, "Why are you here?"

He pointed to Catherine's bunk, made a lewd gesture, and then pointed towards the male bunks. Willa nodded and looked upwards to bunk above her, where Elnath slept. She pointed to Elnath's bunk questioningly, and Braxton indicated she was asleep. He pointed to the bunk above him where Charlotte slept soundly. Willa pantomimed the same gesture for 'asleep'and Braxton nodded his understanding.

Willa was concerned though about when the two woke up. Part of her wanted Catherine's and Quintus' reputations to suffer and fall, but she also had to keep an eye on Quintus to protect the Malfoy name. Not to mention the devastation this would cause Elnath. She got Braxton's attention and pointed to the common room. He nodded and silently rolled off the bed, revealing he wore short pants, a leg holster for his wand, and little else. Before she could protest his lack of clothing, he was out the door. She pulled her coat over her nightgown and rummaged on Catherine's bunk for any clothing he may have left behind, but found none. He had entered the girls' dormitory essentially naked without any thought to their reputations. And with young Charlotte in there! She marched out to the common room angrily.

Braxton was mid-stretch when she arrived, his massive wingspan at full size while he yawned. It was simultaneously obnoxious and attractive, the dim light of the embers from the sitting area's fireplace illuminating his skin in a warm glow. She gave into her urge to smack him on his fully formed abdomen muscles with the back of her hand.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, everything coming back together as he rubbed his stomach. "Your stupid ring left a mark."

Willa examined his flesh for a mark and found none. She rolled her eyes and fingered the emerald ring a moment, her thoughts lingering on Septimus. She wondered if his body was as fit as Braxton's, but decided it was likely thicker and fully adult.

"Why did you bring me out here?" Braxton asked.

"Where are your clothes?" Willa asked.

"In the bunk over mine. I would have grabbed them, but I could not stand _that_ for another second." He motioned towards the male dorms.

"Were they…?" Willa asked. She glanced towards the male dorms, but that side of the common area was nearly pitch black, far too dark to see anything, especially with the dying firelight making their side of the room so bright in comparison. She looked back at Braxton.

"I am unsure. The last thing I could understand was Quintus saying, 'He will not hear us, I will do what my father always does and cast praeligo.'" Braxton said, imitating Quintus' voice so well as he quoted him that Willa laughed. Braxton frowned, "It is not funny."

"It is. Your imitation is exact." She managed through laughter. She realized that Septimus _had_ used praeligo with her, which made her laugh even harder.

"What is happening to you?" Braxton asked, trying not to laugh himself, but Willa's was infectious. He put on Quintus' voice again and said, "My sister might be the best Quidditch player at Hogwarts, but I will achieve eternal glory."

Willa fell deeper into laughter and Braxton joined her.

"Stop, stop." She breathed, "You are making me cry."

"Only pathetic mudbloods cry." Braxton continued in Quintus' voice.

Willa recoiled and looked at him, "Do not say that word. Not even like that."

"Sorry." Braxton said softly in his own voice.

She shook her head in easy forgiveness and wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Are you all right?" Braxton asked her after a moment. "You were screaming in your sleep. I was about to wake you."

"I was having a night terror." She said.

"Ciaran?" he asked.

"Yes. It was weird, too. Different. He was being intimate with someone—the girl he loved. It was as though I could not look away, but I was supposed to be their lookout in the dream. And I could only watch them. Then a man used the killing curse on them." Willa said.

"Well, then the dream was not even accurate, since Muggles killed your brother." Braxton said reassuringly.

"It never is accurate." Willa admitted, easily keeping the actual memory hidden in her mind. "Do you have them, about Bethany?"

"Thankfully no. Not about her." He said, then hesitated.

"You do not have to tell me." Willa assured him.

"They are always about my mother." He said finally. "She changes in them, becomes something demented. Then she kills me and I wake up."

"That is terrible." Willa whispered.

She reached for his forearm and gave it a squeeze. Braxton tensed up at her touch, so she released him immediately, saying, "Forgive me," at the same time he said, "I am sorry."

They stood in silence a moment, not looking at each other; lost in their own sad thoughts. Without warning, Braxton wrapped his long arms around Willa and pulled her into a tight hug. His warmth gave her immediate comfort.

"I am very grateful our paths have crossed." He said. He held her a long moment more, then released her.

She nodded and met his eyes before saying, "Me too." In the next breath she said, "Now what are we going to do about Catherine?"

"Perhaps I can help." A voice said from the other side of the room.

Both were startled enough to pull their wands out. They turned in an unplanned unison to face the speaker and Willa noticed for the first time Braxton was left-handed.

"Relax," the speaker lit his wand revealing it was Headmaster Hayward. "It is only I."

"Headmaster, forgive us." Braxton said, his voice becoming formal as he lowered his wand.

"Nonsense. Come and sit with me." He said, motioning to the empty tea cups next to him at the table.

Willa sheathed her wand and followed Braxton across the carriage.

"Mr. Bagshot, please, cover yourself up. You are indecent." Headmaster Hayward said, handing him a tunic that he had transfigured from one of the seat cushions.

Willa let out a giggle and Braxton shot her a look after his head was through the top opening of the tunic. She ignored him, sitting at one of the settings now lit by a charm from the headmaster.

"I always find a nice cup of tea will help me through a bout of insomnia or a plague of night terrors. Just add a dash of sleeping draught, yes." He said as he swished his wand gracefully to pour their tea. "Sugar or cream?"

"Both, please." Braxton replied.

"Just black, thank you." Willa replied.

Their eyes met for a second, both wordlessly mocking the others' tea preference.

"Now, imagine my surprise that with a carriage full of Slytherins and a Gryffindor, it is the Ravenclaw causing so much trouble for everyone." Headmaster Hayward smiled and gave a little laugh. "Honestly, I thought you two would be most likely to break the rules, but after witnessing your tête-a-tête, I fear I have misjudged the both of you."

Braxton and Willa sipped their tea, unsure what to say.

"In fact, I now feel certain you two are the most prepared for what this tournament has to offer." He smiled at them both. "Now as for Miss Avery and Mr. Malfoy occupying your sleeping quarters, Mr. Bagshot, let me ask you both this."

He paused to sip some tea before continuing, "Which of the two would you rather be disallowed from entering the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Quintus." Braxton said without hesitation.

"What? No, neither." Willa protested. "Both or neither should be permitted to enter. The punishment must fit the crime, and both are participant."

"And what of Mr. Bagshot entering the female bunks in his state of undress? That not only broke the rules but jeopardized all three remaining ladies' reputations. Should he be disallowed as well, Miss Gamp?"

"Braxton had little option but to leave his bunk. Perhaps he could have given it more thought, but he did not have much time to think." She reasoned. "Catherine and Quintus made active choices. Still, I do not think any of them should be disallowed."

Braxton stayed silent, but was relieved Willa supported him.

"You would by default be the Hogwarts champion." Headmaster Hayward noted.

"If breaking rules on this carriage is what determines one unworthy, then the Goblet of Fire shall choose me regardless." Willa stated. "Is it not preferable to all our consciences to allow the unbiased object to make the judgments of worth?"

"Well said, Miss Gamp." He smiled with a hint of pride. "Now, back to bed for you, and Mr. Bagshot, you can wait here until I have returned Miss Avery to her assigned bunk."

"Yes, sir." Braxton said. He looked at Willa and said, "Goodnight."

She stood and nodded to them both, saying "Goodnight," as she drifted back to her bunk. The sleeping potion's effects began as she tucked in, and she was out in seconds.

* * *

Eight o'clock came early for four of the six students. The carriage had already left England a couple hours prior and was into Normandy, just north of Caen, by the time everyone sat for breakfast. Braxton and Willa were determined to avoid eye contact so they would not laugh, and thus Willa ensured she sat between him and Elnath, and across from Catherine, who was flanked by Quintus and her little sister. Thankfully Elnath and Charlotte appeared to remain unaware of the prior evening's events.

Catherine wore a permanent shade of shame in her cheeks, which Willa assumed was only worsened from her empath abilities, especially given how self-satisfied Quintus appeared. His apparent behavior made Willa question how much she should be protecting him, and she debated relaying his activity to Septimus so at least he would have the opportunity to discipline him appropriately.

This momentary debate concluded the same way it always did, with Willa deciding it was better not to interfere on these matters just yet. Beyond that, it was probable Headmaster Hayward would report their misbehavior to their parental figures as part of his duties, and this reminded her that they all were still children in the world's eyes. She did not feel like a child though.

The Headmaster sat at the head of the table and appeared entirely unfazed by all of it. The only difference in his behavior, Willa noted, was that he paid more attention to her needs. Her glass always full, her need for seconds always prompted. She decided the headmaster now felt she was going to be their champion, so he better get on her good side so they could win the whole thing.

"Were you laughing last night?" Elnath asked Willa as she buttered her scone.

"No? I slept all night." Willa lied.

"Strange. I swore I woke up and heard you laughing with Quintus in the common room." She said low enough only Willa and Braxton could hear.

"You must have dreamed it." Willa teased.

Braxton failed to stifle a laugh at this and had to turn it into a cough. Willa clapped him on the back a few times as he pretended to have swallowed his drink wrong.

"Mr. Bagshot, Professor Albion tells me you are a proficient pianist and violinist. Why did you not pursue Muggle Music as an extracurricular this year?" Headmaster Hayward asked.

"Oh, I did not think I would have time with the tournament, sir." He replied, blushing slightly at the acknowledgment of his talent.

"Nor did Miss Gamp, but she still signed up for it. I had the pleasure of hearing her play a piece she composed just last week. Quite the talent, Miss Gamp." Headmaster Hayward said. "Did you train at Ilvermorny?"

"Thank you, sir, and no, not exactly. Ilvermorny did not offer any No-Maj related curriculum. I learned from various No-Maj neighbors in America." She replied.

Everyone looked her, shocked.

"I did not realize that." Elnath said.

Willa shrugged. Her father had required she and Ciaran both spend ample time with No-Majs in America to better integrate the Gamps into their society so he could more easily root out the scourers among them.

"We should play duets sometime." Braxton said.

_We already have._ Willa thought, but said, "I would love that."

They shared a smile, finally able to look at one another without risk of laughter. At least until Quintus chirped into the conversation with, "Miss Avery is also a very talented musician."

Braxton and Willa immediately turned to find he was giving Catherine a look of genuine admiration.

"Oh, and tell us, what do you play?" Braxton asked innocently enough before adding, "The flute?"

Elnath let out a snicker, finding Braxton Bagshot delightfully hilarious for the first time ever, and Willa kicked both her cousin and Braxton under the table. Charlotte seemed confused by Elnath's laugh, giving a small smile herself in an attempt to fit into the conversation. Quintus did not bother to fix Braxton with a glare, and continued to look at Catherine to see if she required his support.

Finally Catherine responded, ignoring Braxton's crass joke entirely, "No, I am in the Toad Chorus."

"Ah, a fine endeavor." Headmaster Hayward said. "A shame you have to miss the Halloween performance, however I believe you all will find the music program at Beauxbatons extraordinary."

"I hear their alchemy coursework far surpasses all the other schools. And that the Flamel Fountain contains an elixir of life?" Braxton said, which drew a surprised look from Elnath who then eagerly looked to Headmaster Hayward for his answer.

"Oh yes, second only to Uagadou. As for the fountain, in fact all the water at Beauxbatons contains restorative properties. During the summer the school becomes a popular destination for its baths." The headmaster explained.

"Do you know if Mr. Nicholas Flamel is teaching this semester?" Elnath asked.

Headmaster Hayward smiled warmly at her and said, "Yes, I confirmed that was indeed the case at Professor Hipworth's prompting on your behalf."

"Thank you. He is a most extraordinary alchemist. I have read all of his books." Elnath stated.

"Yes, I enjoyed them all myself over the years. He is a fine man, too. I believe you will enjoy learning from him, Miss Black." He said.

Elnath beamed, and Willa again felt quite glad for inviting her. Even if she did not make champion, at least Elnath's education and connections would vastly improve.

* * *

"Come and see the mountains!" Charlotte exclaimed from her spot by the window nearly eight hours later. Willa and Catherine both went to her to look. The pink of sunset illuminated the white caps of the Pyrenees' ragged peaks in a dreamlike way.

"Beautiful," Catherine murmured, resting her head lovingly on top of her little sister's shoulder.

"The mountains by Ilvermorny are nothing like this, much gentler." Willa mused.

Headmaster Hayward ushered everyone to sit then, as they began their descent into Beauxbatons. Willa could still see outside from her seat beside Elnath, and the cousins were not the only ones who let forth a gasp of delight as the Palace of Beauxbatons came into view. The edifice's white marble walls reflected pink and stood in a splendid symmetry against the vast gardens. Flamel Fountain danced in the soft light, larger than any of them expected it to be, and Elnath gripped Willa's hand with excitement.

"I have never seen such splendor." She whispered and Willa gave her cousin's hand a squeeze.

This view turned out to be the back of the palace. Their carriage landed shortly after on a drive leading up to the eastern-facing front, the magnificent façade of which loomed in shadow, backlit by the setting sun.

A small group was present when their carriage pulled up to the front entryway of the palace. The Beauxbatons students, in their matching powder blue robes, appeared as immaculate and beautiful as the palace they stood before. One of the male students came to help Headmaster Hayward out of the carriage and then offered assistance to the Hogwarts students. Their group of six followed at a polite distance behind the headmaster, who was now being greeted in French by Headmistress Lestrange. As promised, the entirety of conversation flowed in French from that moment on.

"Virgil! How good to see you!" the dark-skinned woman said in a commanding tone that Willa assumed was meant to be polite. It reminded her of Uncle Castor.

"Delphine, always a pleasure." Headmaster Hayward replied in perfect French, taking her hand and bowing to kiss it. "We seem to have arrived at a most beautiful time of day. The palace looks even more resplendent than the last time I was here."

"Ah, but you flatter me!" she laughed, then leaned closer to add, "Which is more than Ragnar is willing to do."

"He has arrived then?"

"Yes, the Durmstrang ship is in the glacial lake and his delegation inside being settled already. He brought only male students again." She said with a roll of the eyes.

"Thank you for hosting, this year especially." Headmaster Hayward said.

Willa sensed an underlying judgment in his statement, which one of the Beauxbatons students seemed to notice as well. A female, dark-skinned like the headmistress, who looked between the two authority figures uneasily before noticing Willa watched her. The girl produced a charismatic smile upon meeting her eye and Willa's heartbeat increased in tempo. She strengthened her occlumency, finding her thoughts immediately migrated to Septimus, and realized she found herself attracted to this girl.

"The school is perfectly safe, as you can see, and I have assigned each of your students a host to help them acclimate while they are here." Headmistress Lestrange replied and then snapped her fingers.

At this marker, six of the students sprang into action, including the girl who had smiled at Willa a moment ago. Before Willa could process it, the girl stood before her featuring that smile again and dazzling brown eyes. A classically beautiful girl of olive complexion and a sheet of glossy brown hair stood before Elnath.

"I am Hélène Lestrange and this is Penelope García Gonzalez. We have been assigned to you both." The girl before Willa said in French. "You are Wilhelmina Gamp, correct?"

Willa nodded, unable to speak as her throat was too dry.

"You are Mademoiselle Elnath Black?" Penelope asked Elnath.

"Yes, nice to meet you." Elnath replied in French with a curtsy.

"Come, we will show you where you will be staying while you are here." Hélène said brightly, then spun around and strode gracefully towards the palace doors. Penelope gave Elnath a friendly smile, turning with the same grace, and the Hogwarts girls hurried to keep up with their hosts.

The palace's entry hall gleamed in white marble, another wide hallway passing through it just before it ended at a massive and intricate oblong staircase.

"The ceilings depict the history of Beauxbatons," Hélène explained, pausing at the hallways' intersection so the girls could look up and take in the murals. "The palace is a rectangle, as you saw coming in, with a central tower and courtyard. The wider downstairs hallways serve as meeting and artistic spaces, the sculpture hall that way and the music hall that way."

Willa and Elnath followed her gestures to see an endless display of sculptures down the hall to the right and an assortment of Muggle and magical musical instruments to their left.

"This is considered the East Wing, though some call it the Entry Wing. The very opposite side of the palace is the West Wing, which features the banquet hall and ballroom. The South Wing is the dining hall and the North Wing is the hospital and baths." Hélène explained then continued towards the staircase.

As they climbed, there was a smaller hallway leading off the first landing, halfway between the first and second stories. "That leads to the Central Tower, which houses the library and the observatory on top. The owlery is in a smaller turret off the central one." Penelope explained as they continued to the second floor.

Her French was slightly accented, so Elnath asked, "Where are you from?"

"Segovia, Spain, and you?" Penelope smiled.

"Oxfordshire, near London." Elnath replied.

"Your French is beautiful." Penelope said and Elnath blushed her thanks.

"And you are from Dublin, Wilhelmina?" Hélène asked.

"Oh, yes, though I was most recently living in Boston." Willa replied in her Creole accented French.

"Not New Orleans?" Hélène laughed. "Such an accent!"

"It is where I learned French." Willa shrugged. "How did you know I am from Dublin?"

"My father is Marcellus Lestrange, the editor of _Le Sorcier de Paris_. I know everyone." Hélène said simply. She started them towards the south, down the narrower hallway of the second floor before turning to face Willa again to add, "I am a great admirer of your father!"

"Oh, how so?" Willa asked. Her unexpected attraction to Hélène immediately dissipated.

Hélène breathed deeply, getting lost in her own world a moment before responding, "His work as an auror and then hunting the scourers in the Americas. He is legend here in France."

Elnath eyed her cousin to make sure she was all right, but Willa laughed easily, "I assure you he is only a man."

Hélène giggled and turned back front, continuing the tour, "The classrooms are throughout this floor. Each corner's tower houses our living quarters. The Southeast Tower is faculty only, the Southwest is where we live, Northeast is where they put all the Durmstrang boys and one of yours, and the Northwest is where Penelope's fiancé lives."

"Fiancé?" Elnath asked with excitement.

"Yes, he asked me just this summer." Penelope was all smiles. "Xabier Ibarra Zabala."

"The Chaser for the Spanish national team?" Elnath gaped. Xabier Ibarra Zabala was so famous that even she had heard of him despite her lack of interest in Quidditch.

Penelope nodded.

They arrived at the Southwest Tower and Hélène paused in front of a painting of fluttering blue butterflies inside the spiral staircase. "Is everyone inside the base?"

She saw they were and said to the painting, "Il va pleuvoir aujourd'hui."

The butterflies swarmed from the painting upwards and the entire staircase spun around them in a whirl of white marble and blue wings. When it stopped, a door stood where the painting had been before, which Hélène opened and led them through.

"Welcome home!" she said.

They were in a cozy, circular sitting room with two couches and two arm chairs, all upholstered in an azure and cream striping. Four blue doors stood within the cream papered walls of the circle. The two rightmost doors were blank, the far left one featured a gilded she-wolf emblem, and the door next to that a gilded raven emblem.

"Those two are your rooms. They are identical, each like a flower petal." Penelope pointed to the two blank doors. "Your things should be up by now, if you wanted to freshen up for dinner."

Each bedroom had a single window cut into the marble, and featured a double bed, writing desk, wardrobe, and full-length mirror. Willa's trunk sat at the foot of the bed, her owl set on top of it. She pulled Galanta out of her cage and went to the window to show her the view. It was majestic, with Flamel Fountain and the gardens in the foreground and the final rays of sun setting behind the Pyrenees in the distance. Galanta let out a quiet hoot and Willa smiled, "I know, girl. Beauxbatons already proves itself more beautiful than Hogwarts and Ilvermorny."


	14. Coupe de Feu

When the four girls left their dorm to go to dinner, they were only one flight up in the turret, and Willa wondered how it worked if multiple dorms were exiting at once. Hélène led them down the west hallway, the opposite direction of how they came, to a less ornate and more functional stairwell that led down to the West Wing.

Hélène and Penelope greeted everyone they passed by name then Hélène passed on some defining information about the person. Marta Villanueva Vidente from Palencia who excelled in Divination. Tanguy Martens from Ghent who was rumored to have brought a Tebo as a pet this year, but as it chooses to remain invisible on school grounds there is no proof. Claudine Rosier from Bordeaux who played Keeper for one of the school’s Quidditch teams. Giuseppe Vicario, a Muggle-born from Vinci, who was kicked out of a prestigious Muggle art school at age nine for being possessed by a demon. In actuality, his paintings were magical and thus their subjects moved. Thankfully when his parents sent him for exorcism, the Italian City-States Council of Magic intervened and moved him to Beauxbatons a couple of years early.

They passed a group of girls congregated on the stairs whose laughs were melodic and almost hypnotic. These girls only said hello to Penelope and gave Elnath and Willa polite nods.

Hélène let out a scoff after they reached the bottom of the stairwell, “So rude! I cannot believe they even let those Veela-bloods into this school. They are not even human!”

“Hélène truly dislikes them because they are her only actual competition for affection in the school.” Penelope whispered to Willa and Elnath with a playful smile.

“Hardly! It is not even real affection they gain.” Hélène protested.

Both Willa and Elnath knew of the veela and how their natural state was one of seduction, but had never encountered one.

“I thought the veela, similar to merfolk or centaurs, did not possess magical abilities?” Elnath asked as their hosts turned them around to exit the building into the central courtyard and started them across it to the South Wing’s interior entrance where the dining hall was located.

“They do not, but they are far more practical for wizards to mate with than merfolk or centaurs.” Penelope explained. “Most of the veela blood here are third generation, though watch out for Bastien Saint-Claude. He is second generation and embarrassingly lethal.”

Just before they entered the dining hall, two males approached them.

“Xabi, hello!” Penelope said brightly. The tall, muscular brunette kissed her on the lips. Penelope quickly gestured to Elnath and Willa saying, “May I present Mademoiselle Elnath Black and Mademoiselle Wilhelmina Gamp from the Hogwarts delegation. Elnath and Wilhelmina, this is Señor Xabier Ibarra Zabala and his best friend Monsieur Patrice Fleury.”

Both boys greeted them with a bow as they reached for their hands to kiss. Patrice was far less attractive than Xabier, with a broad forehead and slightly askew nose. He had an odd scar on his left cheek that almost looked like a dimple. His eyes were a cool gray and his thick lips seemed to be in a permanent pout. By contrast, Xabier’s features were symmetrical and his golden-brown eyes full of light. His thick, dark eyebrows gave him a mature look, making him appear aged twenty-one rather than eighteen.

Still, as the group entered the dining hall, both boys moved with the same ease of grace as Penelope and Hélène, and Willa whispered to Elnath in English, “Do you think grace is a Beauxbatons requirement?”

Elnath giggled and said, “If so, I do not mind it one bit.”

The walls of the dining hall were lined with wood to absorb the bulk of the room’s chattering noise. It was necessary given the amount of students the school hosted, double that of Hogwarts at a glance. Eight long tables spread throughout the hall in four rows of two, with a pair of smaller faculty tables perpendicular the student tables at the center, dividing the room in half. Like the rest of the palace, the dining hall was lit by massive crystal chandeliers.

Willa could not locate Braxton in the crowd, but Headmaster Hayward caught her eye from the faculty tables and gave her a friendly nod. Willa returned it, and he looked back to a scowling gentleman in formal robes long out of fashion. The man’s dark hair was streaked with gray and he looked vaguely familiar to Willa.

“That is Monsieur Droit.” Hélène whispered to Willa. “He is head of Magical Law Enforcement and reports to Ministre Lavoie, but rumor is he is vying for the Supreme Mugwump position in the International Confederation of Wizards. He comes from an old magical lineage. He must be here to formally open the tournament.”

“Yes, I believe my father had him over once when we lived in Baltimore.” Willa said with a nod as she recounted why he looked familiar to her. “It was impossible to keep up with every diplomat he entertained.”

“I understand completely. That is how it is at my house, too.” Hélène laughed and their group settled into a table at the far end of the hall.

Willa noticed only the tables in their row had wine glasses.

“Yes, they serve wine for fourth years and up only. The younger students must sit closer to the faculty tables.” Penelope explained at her inquiry. It had already been established she, Hélène, Xabier and Patrice were all seventh years.

Willa saw Charlotte Avery laughing with a girl who appeared her age at the table next to them, closer to the faculty. Catherine was not with her, however, and she wondered how their age difference affected their experience here.

A moment later, Headmistress Lestrange stood and the dining hall fell immediately silent.

“Tonight marks an exciting day for Beauxbatons, as we begin the Triwizard Tournament. First, will all the delegates from Hogwarts and Durmstrang stand so we might properly welcome you.”

The eleven foreigners stood and Willa finally could see Braxton. He stood all the way across the room beside a blond Durmstrang student with as imposingly athletic a build as Xabier who, by Willa’s quick comparison now, was easily the most attractive of the Durmstrang males. The Beauxbatons students all clapped politely until Headmistress Lestrange motioned for the delegates to sit.

“Now, I must introduce the two schools’ fearless leaders, Headmaster Hayward of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she paused for him to stand and give a bow to both sides of the crowd. “And Headmaster Kolvargson of Durmstrang Institute.”

Headmaster Kolvargson was a burly man with long white hair and beard, and ice blue eyes that darted around so quickly it made Willa uneasy. He appeared to trust nothing but smiled broadly as he bowed to the crowd.

“Without further ado, I introduce Monsieur Purcell Droit of le Ministère.” Headmistress Lestrange finished and sat back down as M. Droit stood.

“Thank you, Headmistress Lestrange. It is my honor to be here among such talent. My confidence in France and Europe’s future only grows in seeing all of your bright minds here.” He began in a sycophantic tone. “While the Muggle world rages war amongst each other, the superior tradition of European cooperation and alliance continues in the Wizarding world this year as we open the 1792 Triwizard Tournament tonight. This year marks a special occasion for the tournament, as it is 100 years since the International Statute of Secrecy went into effect, shielding all of us from the Muggles so we might prosper into the bright witches and wizards I see here today.”

He paused here as though for applause, but no one made a sound, too shocked he would bring up the Muggle war at this moment. He gave an uncomfortable smile, and hurriedly continued, “The tournament features three tasks that each school’s Champion must complete and be judged on. The panel will consist of myself and the three schools’ heads. Each task has been designed to exemplify the skills which Beauxbatons considers the upmost importance for any truly gifted wizard or witch. They will test each Champion’s creativity, ingenuity, determination, and, of course, magical skill. Above all else, a Champion must possess a strong moral fiber.”

There was a shuffling and some murmurs as M. Lierre, the palace caretaker, brought forth a jewel-encrusted wooden chest to the faculty table, placing it directly in front of Headmistress Lestrange. She pulled out her ebony wand and tapped the chest three times. The lid creaked open and M. Droit continued, “As with every tournament, the Champions will be selected by the unbiased judge, le Coupe de Feu.”

Headmistress Lestrange pulled a worn wooden goblet from the chest, blue-white flames danced from its basin all the way to the brim. She smiled proudly as she placed it on the marble pedestal between the two faculty tables, the dead center of the room, for all the students to see. A delighted murmur went up from the crowd.

“To enter as Champion, one simply writes their name and school on a piece of parchment and places it into the flames. Champions will be determined tomorrow night at the Halloween Feast. Headmistress Lestrange will move the Coupe de Feu into the banquet hall tonight, and those wishing to enter the tournament will have until five o’clock tomorrow evening to do so.” M. Droit continued. He took a deep breath, looking at both sides of the room, in particular the younger students, before he said, “While there is no age limit for entry, I remind you by entering the tournament, you submit to a binding magical contract that cannot be broken. If selected Champion, you must compete in the tournament’s entirety, no matter the personal dangers.”

An anxious murmur filled the tables of the younger students. Finally, M. Droit gave a bright smile unbefitting of his face.

“In addition to competing for honor and glory,” he said. “I am pleased to announce the winner will receive a greater monetary prize than ever before due to a generous decision on part of Ministre Lavoie. The fiscal reward this year will be a sum of 300 Galleons. Good luck.”

He sat and a delighted buzz rose from the crowd. Headmistress Lestrange clinked her wine glass two times and the hall’s plates and glasses all became filled with food and drink.

“You both will be entering?” Penelope asked Elnath and Willa as she spooned some bouillabaisse onto her dish.

“No, only Willa.” Elnath said. “I am merely here for moral support.”

“And a specific man.” Willa smiled at her mischievously.

“Yes,” Elnath grinned and asked, “Which is Professor Nicholas Flamel?”

“Oh, the eldest looking one.” Patrice replied, pointing to a frail, pasty skinned man with ghostly white hair.

“Are you interested in alchemy, Mlle. Black?” Xabier asked in a friendly tone.

“Yes, and potioneering.” Elnath nodded then asked the group, “Will you all be entering?”

“Not at all, no.” Penelope laughed. “Xabi will be, and Hélène.”

“Not you?” Elnath asked Patrice.

“No, I fear I lack the strong moral fiber required for entry.” Patrice grinned and Elnath laughed. Patrice drank some wine and added, “I much prefer to watch others do daft and dangerous things for money.”

“300 Galleons is quite the sum!” Xabier inserted.

“Not that any of us need the money.” Hélène shrugged then eyed Willa’s ring. “That emerald alone must have cost your father at least 300 Galleons.”

“Oh, it is not from my father.” Willa blushed.

“Oh, really?” Hélène perked up, leaning in for more details.

“It was a birthday gift from the man I am attached to.” Willa explained.

“The man? What is name?” Hélène pressed.

“His name is Percival.” Willa replied and drank some wine to indicate that was all she had to say on the topic.

“Does he have a surname?” Hélène asked, looking between Willa and Elnath.

“Do not look at me. I know little beyond what you have learned just now.” Elnath laughed and glanced at her cousin. “Willa is very mysterious about her attachment.”

“Surely your parents must know him?” Hélène breathed out as her entire physique brightened. A mysterious suitor with incredible wealth was precisely the thing she thrived on.

“They know him, yes.” Willa said, and added quite specifically to Hélène, “They do not know we are attached yet, however, and I would like to keep it that way.”

“I will divulge nothing. It is not as though I even know your parents.” Hélène laughed.

“What about you, Elnath?” Penelope said, “Are you attached to anyone?”

“No.” Elnath said flatly. She looked at Professor Flamel and added, “I am very focused on my studies this year.”

* * *

The next day, the four girls sat watching the Coupe de Feu entries from one of the better positioned tables set up around the perimeter of the banquet hall. The goblet and its pedestal had been moved to the center of the large, west-facing room, which with its black and white checkered marble flooring and decadent view of Flamel Fountain, was far more attractive a setting.

Halloween was considered a full holiday at Beauxbatons, so there were no classes that Wednesday, and they would resume the next day for everyone. The afternoon was to feature the eagerly anticipated Halloween art show in the sculpture hall, followed by the holiday concert in the music hall. Willa wondered how the performances would compare to what she had experienced so far at Hogwarts, more specifically how her and Braxton’s skills would stack up against this renowned music program.

The morning had been diverting thus far, as Penelope and Hélène proved popular for good reason. Both continued to be generous with themselves, welcoming, kind, and easy to converse with. They introduced Willa and Elnath to nearly every person who came into the banquet hall, which was most of the student population of Beauxbatons.

Both Willa and Hélène had entered their names in the goblet when they first arrived in the Hall, and Hélène admitted to Willa as they walked back to the applause of Penelope and Elnath she felt less of a thrill than she expected having entered the tournament. Willa agreed it lacked the emotion she anticipated, in truth though she had not anticipated any emotion surrounding entry or even being selected as Champion, should that occur.

As they awaited the arrival of Xabi, Braxton entered the Hall alongside the boy he had sat with at dinner. Hélène leaned closer to their group to ask somewhat suggestively, “Who is that?”

“He is with Durmstrang, but I do not know who he is.” Willa replied.

“No, the other one.” Hélène clarified. “The more attractive one. Is he not from Hogwarts?”

“Braxton?” Elnath laughed and rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone find him attractive!”

“He is handsome, they both are.” Penelope interjected. “Why do you think otherwise?”

“Yes, dear cousin, why do you find Braxton so intolerable?” Willa smiled playfully, though she had wondered this for some time.

Elnath stared between the three girls. With a huff she declared, “I just do!”

Willa laughed to ease Elnath’s embarrassment and said, “Perfectly fair to feel that way. Besides, it removes you from the competition, which I am sure Hélène appreciates.”

“Hélène always attains whomever she wants regardless of competition.” Penelope teased, earning herself a reproachful glare from Hélène. Penelope smiled smugly at her best friend.

“Come, I am friends with Braxton. I will introduce you.” Willa said to Hélène.

“How close of friends?” she asked.

“Quite close,” Willa said easily.

“Is it…? I do not wish to intrude on anything.” Hélène asked, trailing off to imply a romantic relationship.

“Not at all!” Willa laughed. “No, he is like a brother to me. Besides, you already know I am attached to someone.”

“Being attached is not precisely a deterrent here in France.” Hélène said and stood. “But if this Braxton is of no romantic interest to you, let us be introduced. Then we can solve who the Durmstrang boy is as well.”

The two linked arms, as if longtime friends, and crossed the room. Braxton met Willa’s eyes as they approached and he gave her a wave. Already he seemed more relaxed here at Beauxbatons than he did in Hogwarts.

“Good afternoon,” he said to her as they arrived.

“Here to put your name in the Coupe de Feu?” Willa asked him.

“We are, yes.” Braxton said and the Durmstrang boy smiled to confirm he was the other part of ‘we’.

“This is Mlle. Hélène Lestrange.” Willa said. “Hélène, this is Mr. Braxton Bagshot.”

She curtsied and he bowed his head.

“A pleasure,” Hélène said, as though it were not routine a greeting at all, but in fact a true pleasure to be meeting Braxton. Willa felt somewhat uncomfortable by this, but she could not determine why.

“Indeed, it is for me as well.” Braxton smiled broadly, his eyes coming to life. It was then Willa realized what she felt was gnawing jealousy. She did not want to share Braxton with Hélène, just as she had not wanted to share Ciaran with Opala.

“Am I so pleasurable to meet?” Hélène laughed breezily, accustomed to male flattery the way Willa and Elnath both were.

“That is to be determined, I suppose.” Braxton grinned before adding, “Truly though, I admire your father’s work with the paper. It is honor to meet his daughter.”

Willa stared at him blankly. Since when did Braxton read _Le Sorcier de Paris_? Upon seeing her look, he threw at her, “What? You did not think I would prepare for France?”

“I said nothing.” Willa protested, holding her hands up in innocence.

“Hmf,” Braxton grunted.

“And who is your friend, Mr. Bagshot?” Hélène prompted, moving the conversation along.

“Oh yes, this is Mr. Bertok Grindelwald of Durmstrang Institute. We are roommates in the Northeast Tower.” Braxton explained. “Bertok, this is Miss Wilhelmina Gamp and, as you heard, Mlle. Hélène Lestrange.”

Bertok inclined his head to both girls, who curtsied.

“Wilhelmina, such a lovely name. It is ‘ _little William_ ,’ yes?” he said to Willa, his French imperfect and his accent strong.

“Yes, I am named for my great-grandfather, Ulick Gamp. Ulick is the Irish form of William.” Willa explained.

“Ulick Gamp? The first Minister of Magic for Britain?” Bertok said, clearly impressed.

“Yes,” Willa smiled and offered nothing more.

“Willa’s father is Ardan Gamp.” Hélène said. When this garnered no response from Bertok she added, “He is very famous in France.”

Bertok nodded politely, clearly having no idea of Willa’s father’s identity. Something Willa was quite grateful for, and she moved the conversation away from that topic by asking Bertok, “Your personal name is Hungarian, is it not?”

“Yes, I am from Hungary.” He nodded, his smile lighting up his face.

“Really? You do not look Hungarian.” Hélène remarked playfully.

“Oh, please tell me, how does a Hungarian look, Mlle. Lestrange?” Bertok replied, his face unreadable. Willa noticed Braxton give a sly smile, so she determined this was Bertok’s sense of humor.

“Less attractive than you, M. Grindelwald.” Hélène replied, her brown eyes vivid as she kept his gaze.

Bertok did not look away from her and did not react with any expression at all. Instead he merely stated, “I see.”

Willa and Braxton shared an amused look for a brief moment and she felt the warmth of their familiarity rise within her. The gross pang of jealousy subsided immediately with this private exchange.

“We should let you two enter your names into the goblet.” Willa said after a moment.

“Yes, best of luck.” Hélène said, giving both boys a curtsy before she turned to lead Willa back to their table.

“Thank you,” Braxton said as they went, and Willa noticed he elbowed Bertok playfully after he thought she was not looking.

“I thought you were inclined towards Braxton?” Willa whispered to Hélène once they were far enough away not to be overheard.

“I had a change of heart once we arrived.” Hélène smiled sweetly.

“Nothing to do with Braxton mentioning your father then?” Willa pressed.

Hélène hesitated, looking around a moment before continuing in a hushed tone, “I merely wish to be judged on my own merits and to make my own name for myself, and not constantly live in the shadow of my father.”

“That I fully understand.” Willa said. “More than you know.”

“But your father is so popular?” Hélène asked, baffled at Willa’s tone. “France loves him.”

“Exactly,” Willa said, falling into her usual habits in presenting her family positively. “But your father is popular, too. I mean that I wish to be known not as Ardan Gamp’s daughter, but as Wilhelmina. Just as you wish to be known as Hélène, not Marcellus Lestrange’s daughter.”

Hélène nodded a few times before she smiled warmly at Willa and linking their arms again, “I am glad I was paired as your host.”

Willa smiled back and they looked to see Xabier and Patrice had arrived. Patrice sat beside Elnath, who politely engaged in conversation with him.

“Watch her find _him_ attractive.” Hélène murmured with a giggle to Willa.

While Patrice did not possess the same obvious handsomeness as Xabier, or Bertok and Braxton for that matter, Willa recounted this may well indeed be Elnath’s type. Apart from Grogan Stump, of course, who, like Septimus, certainly held all three qualities of beauty, brains, and brawn.

Willa looked again at her cousin to determine any emotion on the matter of Patrice, but Elnath was impossible to read. If anything, she appeared bored with the entire day.

“How was the introduction? It seemed to go well.” Penelope said brightly.

“I felt it went quite well for Bertok Grindelwald.” Willa said.

“Oh yes, I rather agree.” Hélène said with a pleased smile.

“On your way to breaking more hearts, I see.” Patrice said before adding to Willa, “She will corrupt you to her malicious ways if you are not careful.”

“Ah, but I am incorruptible, you see.” Willa joked.

“Her moral fiber is strong.” Elnath agreed with a smirk.

Once the group’s laughter died down, Xabi stood and announced he was going to put his name in the goblet.

“Best of luck, darling!” Penelope said and he leaned down to kiss her once briefly.

He marched to the Coupe de Feu with every eye in the crowded banquet hall on him. He held up the parchment with his name on it and called out to the eager crowd, “What do you all think? Should I enter?”

“Yes!” half the crowd shouted back with laughs. Someone let out a whistle.

Xabi spun around, his winning smile on as he cried out, “I cannot hear you! Should I enter, what say you?”

“Yes!” everyone cried with amusement. Penelope appeared delighted with his show and led the wild applause once Xabi’s parchment was consumed by the blue-white flames.

Before Xabi could return to them, Quintus and Catherine approached the goblet to enter their names. He greeted them warmly, speaking at a level too quiet for the group to hear, then made a gesture as if to wish them both luck before returning to the group.

“Who were they?” Penelope asked Xabi once he was back at the table.

“More Hogwarts delegates. Quintus Malfoy and Catherine Avery.” Xabi explained.

“Sorry, I did not realize you wondered.” Elnath said to Penelope. “Otherwise I would have explained.”

Penelope smiled and shook her head to indicate she was not offended.

“That is Septimus Malfoy’s son?” Hélène guffawed. “He looks nothing like his father.”

“Oh, when have you seen Mr. Malfoy?” Willa asked, trying not to seem overly interested.

“Several times. My father has to entertain him for work due to his position in the British Ministry.” She explained. “Quintus’ mother must have been very unfortunate looking. I pity the girl who will have to marry him for his money. Can you imagine being attached to him?”

Willa glanced at Elnath to see how she was faring with so much commentary on Quintus. Elnath locked eyes with her a moment, but her expression gave nothing away. They would need to talk about this later, Willa realized. She, however, needed to dig deeper on the subject of Septimus to fully understand his reputation here. He had noted Marcellus Lestrange’s loyalties remained undetermined by Vincent Saint-Just and himself, but perhaps the man’s daughter would divulge clearer details.

“You must find Mr. Malfoy attractive, then. I have to ask if his is one of the many hearts you have broken?” Willa asked with a playful smile. She had no doubts the answer would be no.

Hélène laughed loudly and said, “How rich. That is too funny.”

Willa laughed as well, albeit quieter, to mask her annoyance at the topic of Septimus Malfoy’s heart being funny to anyone when it was so serious a topic for herself.

“Tell me, why do you find it so funny?” Elnath asked Hélène, dangerously close to reaching her tolerance threshold with this girl.

Hélène’s look grew dark as she said to Elnath, “The way I hear it, the man has no heart to break.”

Willa turned away, finding Braxton by accident across the room. He was laughing at Bertok’s joke with some other Durmstrang students, all wearing their deep bloodred robes. She played with her emerald ring a moment, wishing she was with them, not sitting here subjected to vitriol regarding Septimus.

“Hélène,” Willa said, standing. “I need to tell you something, a secret.”

Hélène smiled at her questioningly, but obliged, stepping away from the group to where Willa had moved.

Willa leaned close to her and whispered, “I need you to understand if you break Braxton’s heart, I will kill you.”

Hélène looked at Willa wide-eyed, gauging how serious she was being. Willa’s expression did not lighten. Hélène nodded and said with genuineness, “I see now what you meant earlier when you said he was like a brother. I feel the same towards my brothers. You have my word I will not wound Braxton.”

When they returned to the group, Elnath stood and said to Willa, “Come and take a turn around the room with me, cousin. I wish to meet this Mr. Grindelwald.”

Willa nodded and the cousins smiled goodbye at the group before taking a slow walk around the inside perimeter of the banquet hall so they were on display to all, but in total confidence. To be further cautious, Willa cast praeligo, and Elnath began to talk in Parseltongue.

“What do you think of Patrice?” she asked first.

“I have no opinion on him yet.” Willa admitted. “What do you think of him?”

“He is nice so far. I like that he does not play into Hélène’s ego at all.”

“All three seem not to. They all appear close-knit in that way.” Willa agreed.

“What secret did you tell Hélène? I do not trust her, and I did not think you would either.”

“I do not trust her in the least. She already proves herself untrustworthy in the amount of gossip she has shared. Penelope I am more willing to lend a chance to, but her friendship with Hélène does call her judgement into question.” Willa said.

“True, but Hélène is very well connected. It is possible their friendship stems from that. I am inclined to give Penelope a chance to prove her trustworthiness. Her only steadfast loyalties seem to lie with Xabier.” Elnath said.

“The secret was not a secret at all, by the way.” Willa said. “I threatened to kill her if she hurt Braxton.”

“To kill her? Did she think you were serious?” Elnath asked, her tone a mixture of shock and amusement.

“She seemed to, yes.” Willa laughed lightly. “Still, Braxton is far too naïve for her. She would consume him in one outing.”

“You, dear cousin, do not know Braxton as I do.” Elnath chided. “He was quite the ladies’ man before his family’s tragedy. He had this female-only fan club for quidditch, a harem in my opinion, who all pampered him with attention and gifts. Then there were the girls from music. He is quite gifted, as the Headmaster mentioned on our flight here, and every girl clamored to be his chosen composition.”

Elnath was rolling her eyes so much she could not continue talking, so Willa was forced to ask for clarification of what “chosen composition” meant, remembering Arlo had used the phrase in the Room of Requirement.

“He would choose a girl each month to compose a song for, then play it at a private recital in the music room.” Elnath said. She made an expression as if she had eaten something foul and said, “The whole thing was so gross.”

“Why, that sounds fun?” Willa said.

“He has no loyalty. Every month was a different girl. Surely the recitals were private for a reason. I doubt he could keep track of them all.” Elnath shrugged.

“Why are you only telling me all of this now when I have been friends with him for a month? When, according to you, people were gossiping about us?” Willa asked.

“Because he is so different now. It did not seem relevant at all.” Elnath shrugged. “But rest assured, he can handle Hélène.”

They arrived at Braxton and Bertok a few strides later and Willa removed the charm muffling their conversation. The Durmstrang boys and Braxton were speaking in English, though Bertok shifted to his unsteady French to greet the approaching girls.

“Hello again, Miss Gamp.” Bertok said, then looked at Elnath and gave a nod to greet her.

“Hello, Bertok. This is my cousin, Miss Elnath Black.” Willa said in English. “Elnath, this is Mr. Bertok Grindelwald.”

The two exchanged the formalities and Bertok perked up to tell Elnath in English, “Braxton was telling me as you were coming this way about your passion for alchemy and potions. I too am excited for the prospect of working with Mr. Flamel.”

“Oh? Have you submitted for the International Potions Championship?” Elnath asked.

“Not yet. I will only submit if not chosen as Champion for Durmstrang.” He said.

Elnath nodded politely and Bertok realized he had not introduced his schoolmates yet. He did so, the four Durmstrang students all seventh years, just like Bertok, they soon learned. Only one of them was Hungarian, the rest were from Scandinavia. All had entered their names in the Coupe de Feu.

“We are heading to the art show now, if you cared to join us?” Braxton said once the introductions had been made. His offer was aimed mostly to Willa, and he added, “You might invite Hélène along, too?”

“I would love to join you and I am sure Hélène will as well.” Willa smiled. “In fact, I was going to see if you wanted to sit with me at the concert, so we can judge everyone’s skills.”

Braxton grinned at this and nodded.

“I think I will pass.” Elnath said. “Even though there is not class today, I feel the need to study this afternoon. Perhaps write to Rigel for updates.”

Willa nodded to her, remembering she needed to write her mother with updates. Mostly she had been waiting until she knew if she made Champion or not so there would be something substantive to write about. Her thoughts went to Septimus now and she felt a longing for him and his letters, the way one longs for home after being away for a spell. It was hard to believe his last letter arrived only a week ago.


	15. Chasers

For the holiday feast that night, the banquet hall was transformed from earlier into a dazzling display of Halloween delights. The palace’s few ghosts were all in attendance marveling at the floating jack-o-lanterns and foreign visitors alike. M. Lierre, the caretaker, had attempted to bring in live bats, but they were all poised for escape, clung to the arched tops of the wrought iron frames of the floor to ceiling windows that formed the back wall of the West Wing. During the second course, he gave in and let them free into the night.

The round tables that formed the perimeter during the day now were draped in white cloths and rearranged into formal seating. After joining Willa’s group for the concert, Braxton had followed them into the banquet hall and chose to sit on Willa’s left. Elnath was to her right, Patrice on her other side, followed counterclockwise by Xabier, Penelope, and finally Hélène who sat between Penelope and Braxton. Bertok had been forced to the Durmstrang-only table by Headmaster Kolvargson, who did not seem concerned with the international friendship element of the tournament.

“The speed of his fingers though, it was unlike anything I have seen.” Braxton gushed to Willa regarding the pianist skills of Bastien Saint-Claude, who appeared to be a savant.

Braxton had become quite enraptured with him during his recital and Willa wondered how susceptible he was to the veela. He kept sneaking glances at him, despite that Bastien was Quintus’ host and thus sat beside him several tables away. The Avery sisters were at that table also with their hosts, two sisters from Turin of similar ages.

“Do not play down your talents. You are very fast yourself.” Willa said to Braxton, sipping her wine. “Besides, he is half-veela. Who knows what extra speed that gives him?”

“What are you discussing? Quidditch?” Xabier asked from across their round table.

“No, Braxton’s pianist skills.” Willa said.

“Oh? Are you quite skilled with your fingers?” Hélène chimed in with a smirk.

Elnath rolled her eyes, but Braxton laughed.

“No more deft than Willa.” He said.

Hélène looked between them with a suggestive smile and now Willa rolled her eyes.

“But you are skilled in Quidditch too, correct?” Xabi asked him. “I heard Hogwarts has an excellent Chaser, and Patrice confirmed it is you.”

Patrice nodded to reaffirm this at Xabi’s glance.

“Well,” Braxton began, slightly pink from the compliments, “I have not played in a while.”

“You should come play with us next Saturday for intramurals. It is all for fun.” Xabi said.

“Yes, you should!” Patrice nodded.

Braxton looked between them and said, “All right, but I am not good enough to make the England national team or anything.”

“We will be the judges of that.” Penelope smiled and looked at Elnath, “You will come watch with me and Hélène, right?”

“Oh, I do not know. I may need to study.” Elnath replied. Her primary focus remained on securing a spot with Professor Flamel for additional lessons in alchemy, even if Patrice’s body likely looked good in the form-fitting Quidditch robes.

“On a Saturday?” Patrice protested.

“Yes, well, we are not all enamored with Quidditch.” Elnath shrugged.

“Ah, now I have discovered it.” Patrice said with an amused looked.

“What?” Elnath asked.

“Your one flaw.” He smiled.

“Disinterest in Quidditch is hardly a flaw. Truly it is more of an attribute, given how much more productive I am.” Elnath said with her usual coolness.

Patrice settled into her gaze with a challenging expression, and Willa found herself longing for Septimus at this exchange. She took a deep breath to change her mental energy and announced, “I will definitely be coming to watch.”

“I did not think you liked Quidditch either?” Braxton frowned.

She looked at him, “Quidditch? No. I have never seen you on a broom, however, and it has come so recommended ever since I arrived back in England.”

Before anyone could respond, Headmistress Lestrange stood and the hall fell silent.

“Now the time has come to learn who our Triwizard Tournament Champions will be.” She announced then began to walk to the Coupe de Feu, which still stood at the center of the room.

The energy of anticipation became palpable as its blue-white flames seemed to glow brighter with her approach.

“I am guessing it will be Catherine.” Willa whispered to Braxton.

“As long as it is not Quintus, I do not care.” He whispered back.

The flames turned red and a piece of parchment surged out them and into Headmistress Lestrange’s eager hand. She opened it and looked towards the table where Headmaster Kolvargson had made all his students sit together.

“The Champion for Durmstrang is Bertok Grindelwald.” She declared.

The other Durmstrang boys all cheered as Bertok stood, and both Braxton and Hélène stood up to cheer for him as well, while the rest of the hall applauded with general excitement.

Headmaster Kolvargson led Bertok outside a set of glass doors that flowed seamlessly into the back wall of windows, and onto the terrace that overlooked Flamel Fountain.

Willa noticed Headmaster Hayward had stood and moved closer to her table, away from where Quintus and Catherine sat. Braxton slid his hand into Willa’s when he sat back down, and she looked at him to find he was all excited smiles.

“We will be next.” He said with bright eyes.

She laughed, never having seen him so happy and relaxed before, and gave his hand a squeeze. As he anticipated, Hogwarts was next. The flames grew red again and a parchment Willa recognized as her own came out. Elnath recognized it too and quickly grabbed her cousin’s other hand.

Headmistress Lestrange looked at their table and declared, “The Hogwarts Champion is Wilhelmina Gamp.”

Willa stood, wearing her own excited smile among the congratulations of her table and cheers of the hall. Headmaster Hayward was at her side a moment later, ushering her outside to where Bertok and Headmaster Kolvargson stood with M. Droit.

“Congratulations, Miss Gamp.” Bertok said to her in English.

“You as well, Mr. Grindelwald.” She said.

The headmasters both exchanged their congratulations to the Champions and they all settled into a quietude. Both Willa and Bertok looked out at Flamel Fountain, and Bertok noted to her, “People say the water gives immortality, but only Mr. Flamel’s elixir of life or wielding all three hallows of Death can do that.”

“Hallows of Death?” Willa asked, pretending to not have heard of this term to learn what Bertok knew and believed. She had never understood it that the hallows grant immortality, even in the fairytale.

Before Bertok could respond, a roar came from the banquet hall as the Beauxbatons Champion was declared. Moments later they turned to find Xabier walking towards them, escorted by Headmistress Lestrange.

Willa and Bertok congratulated him quickly, and M. Droit drew them all into a group.

“Congratulations to each of you.” He began in a formal tone. “As I mentioned yesterday, you each now are in a magically binding contract to complete the Triwizard Tournament to the best of your abilities. Due to the intensity of the tournament, you will all be excused from exams for the year. As school host, Headmistress Lestrange will provide instructions as the tasks arrive to allow you all equal time to prepare as appropriate. It is forbidden to receive help in any task, unless expressly permitted by the rules of that task. To ensure fairness, your wands will be weighed next weekend. The first task will be announced on Monday, the nineteenth of November. Are there any questions?”

The three Champions shook their heads.

“Very well, I will see you all at the first task.” M. Droit said and nodded to the group before leaving.

Willa wanted to go back to her friends, but Headmaster Hayward pulled her aside, leading her down the steps and around Flamel Fountain to a gazebo where he launched into a thoroughly prepared strategy of how they would win the tournament. By the time he finished, everyone had already gone to bed.

* * *

Thursday passed in a blur of congratulations and settling into her classes. She and Braxton shared almost every class, while Elnath’s coursework focused very explicitly on potions and alchemy. Quintus and Catherine seemed to be on the same track as each other, and only two of their classes overlapped with Braxton and Willa’s schedule.

Beauxbatons had only one set of subject-based comprehensive exams, taken sixth year, so they all found their coursework as demanding as at Hogwarts, where the focus sixth year was to lay the foundation of preparation for the N.E.W.T. exams in seventh year. The tests during Beauxbatons’ sixth year determined the students’ career path and their seventh years participated in more practical coursework based on their results. Due to this, Willa and Elnath rarely saw Hélène, Penelope, Xabi, and Patrice except during down time.

Their classrooms were all on the second floor except for Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, and Willa and Braxton soon agreed Beauxbatons had a much better layout than Hogwarts.

By the time she went to bed Thursday night, Willa was far too tired and far too overwhelmed with catch up work to even think to write her mother. Friday morning at breakfast she was more than grateful they served coffee at Beauxbatons, though her need for caffeine dissipated once the mail arrived.

Percival’s owl landed in front of her, a bouquet of gardenias with a small note and a full letter attached to her legs.

“Who sent you flowers?” Hélène asked excitedly.

Willa smelled them and smiled happily.

“Percival,” Elnath replied for her. “That is the look she gets when thinking of him.”

Hélène giggled and said, “So adorable.”

Willa tucked the letter into her robes and opened the shorter note. It was not enchanted, and she soon determined he wrote it with the assumption others would read it.

> _My darling Wilhelmina,_
> 
> _I offer my congratulations on making Hogwarts Champion. You have all my support and confidence as you endeavor in the tournament. I hope these flowers bring you joy and help to let you know I am thinking of you._
> 
> _Yours, Percival_

Willa showed Elnath the note and she smiled, “Perhaps he will be able to come to the First Task?”

“Perhaps,” Willa said with uncertainty. She did think Septimus would try to come, but she could not exactly explain that he was Percival.

“Well, he had better escort you to the Yule Ball.” Hélène said, eyeing the note. “He appears to be quite smitten with you. A curious choice of flowers though…”

“How so?” Willa asked.

“Gardenias symbolize secret love. His affections and identity are hardly hidden from you.” Hélène shrugged.

Willa laughed, finding herself even more attracted to Septimus as she realized he must have done this with intention to give them their own private joke. She drank some coffee and said, “He may not have flower meanings memorized and thought I would appreciate their scent and familiarity to America.”

“Still very thoughtful.” Penelope nodded with a smile.

“Are you going to send me flowers?” Xabi asked her with a playful nudge.

“I think you will enjoy my gift more than flowers.” Penelope said and kissed him on the lips.

Such public displays of intimacy were so common at Beauxbatons that even on day three, Willa and Elnath hardly batted an eye. That night, however, they learned exactly how intimate Penelope and Xabi were.

Willa was about to retire from their dorm’s sitting area to finally go read Septimus’ letter, when Penelope and Xabi came into the dorm.

“Oh, hello,” Penelope said to them. She hesitated only a moment before saying, “Well, goodnight.”

Xabi nodded to both of them, then followed Penelope into her bedroom and Willa heard him cast praeligo.

“Well, that answers that question.” Elnath said.

“What question?” Willa asked.

“Oh, I wondered if they had boys over since we have our own bedrooms. Hélène seemed like she would.” Elnath shrugged.

“I am going to read my letter.” Willa said. “Will you be all right?”

Elnath held up her Nicolas Flamel book and said, “Rereading this one to prepare for my private audience tomorrow. Headmaster Hayward arranged it. An interview of sorts to see if Mr. Flamel will take me on for private lessons.”

“Ah, well, I will leave you to it then.” Willa smiled and slipped into her bedroom.

She changed into her night clothes before climbing into bed to read the letter. It was slightly thrilling to get to read Septimus’ words while in bed. She opened the letter and smelled the gardenias she had placed on her nightstand while waiting for it to rearrange into English.

> _Ma Chérie Willa_ ,
> 
> _Bienvenue en France!_ Again, I offer you my congratulations on becoming the Hogwarts Champion. While I was beyond certain that you are the best Hogwarts has to offer, I am far from impartial. How refreshing it is to have the Goblet of Fire confirm my personal bias for all the world to know.
> 
> Truly I hope the gardenias were not too obnoxious. Since you mentioned your cousin was becoming nosier about Percival’s identity, I thought we could have a little fun with it. You will have to tell me the reactions. I confess I am most excited they will be sketching you for the newspapers’ formal announcements of the Champions. While I adore every drawing you send me and I understand self-portraits are a complicated ordeal, I do long for one of you. Now I can acquire at least two (I am unsure where to purchase a Hungarian paper, if I am being entirely honest).
> 
> I am feeling settled into my _hôtel particulier_ here, though unsettled being in France. I admit to already missing England, though I am pleased to be closer to you, and I am certain when your response arrives within a day not a week, I will be even more pleased. Still, Paris is an unsettling place to be. I am curious how much of this has infiltrated the school and hope you will desire to report back on that.
> 
> Vincent has uncovered a disturbing truth since I have been away: the _Anti-Moldus_ are being led by Purcell Droit. You will have met him by now through the tournament. He is quite high up in _le Ministère_ , head of Magical Law Enforcement and second in command to Ministre Lavoie. You can see how this is rather disconcerting.
> 
> I know I have expressed this before, but please be careful. As harsh as it seems, I would not recommend you trust anyone at Beauxbatons beyond the Hogwarts delegation. With such an empowered man in charge of what I would consider a terror group, there really is no telling how deep this runs. It feels familiar to what was happening during Minister Crowdy’s time in office, before his assassination (not that everyone believes it was an assassination). The only difference is here they can hide their atrocities behind the Muggle Revolution. It is rather sickening all around.
> 
> In other news, though I am afraid not any happier, Dobbins has fallen very ill. Selfishly I wanted to bring him along to France, so I could be with him during the end, and I came very close to ordering him to come, but I worried the travel would be too much for his feeble body. Hopefully I will be able to see him again before he passes. He is safe and happy though, surrounded by the other House Elves and still bossing everyone around according to Hobney. I spent much of the day with Dobbins before leaving for France, and during that time he said to me, “If one lives long enough, sir, one dies.” He is quite right, too. I will miss him when he is gone.
> 
> It is particularly sad for me because he represents the final living link to my parents. Of course I inherited the other house elves from them, but I think I explained Dobbins has been in the family for quite some time. He was so devastated when my mother died, I always feel a part of her lives on in him. I do not think I have mentioned her before, but she died when I was eight from natural causes. I must confess I am laughing now as I write this, as morbid as that must sound, because the fact that I had to clarify her death was not unnatural to you reminded me that we have lived such absurd lives. I could not help but laugh about it.
> 
> My apologies: As I was explaining, my mother died when I was eight and Dobbins was inconsolable for weeks. She had been ill for years and Dobbins her primary caretaker. Their bond was very strong. She was not contagious, so I was permitted to her bedside and she would order Dobbins to read to me for her while I held her hand. _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ nearly always was the book. One story per night. “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” was always my favorite and I used to believe once I was old enough to go to Hogwarts, I would be able to find the witch Altheda so she could cure my mother.
> 
> I am afraid I became lost in reverie and forgot to close out my letter to you. It is several hours later now (and perhaps a few fingers of Ogden’s later) and I am certain I will write something I should not yet. So, I will merely bid you goodnight. Or goodbye, if you are not reading this at night. Though I like to imagine you read my letters at night, so perhaps do not spoil that for me if it is not reality.
> 
> With all my heart,
> 
> Septimus

Willa reread the letter several times, enjoying its conversational nature and that he continued to sign with his real name. It felt almost like they were in bed together having a dialogue at the end of the day. She closed her eyes and attempted to imagine him there. It felt insufficient, so she opened her eyes and folded the letter. As she placed it on her bedside table, the gardenias gave her an idea. She pulled one from the vase, drying its stem quickly, and cast, “ _Nox._ ”

Once in darkness, shy for the waning moon, she opened the front of her nightgown so her chest was more exposed. She did not close her eyes this time, the darkness enabling her to imagine Septimus well enough as she delicately dragged the petals across her bare skin. She traced them upwards, over her collarbone and up the sensitive skin of her neck to her ear. Then she crossed her face, kissing the petal that touched her lips for the briefest of moments before continuing its journey to her other ear. She ventured it downwards again and finally pulled her gown further down, exposing her breasts to the cool air. She closed her eyes as the petals crossed her nipples and let out a content sigh. Her exhaustion caught up to her though, and she fell asleep in that position moments later.

* * *

The weekend passed quickly, with Xabi staying over again on Saturday night and Hélène having a male caller on Saturday as well. She assured Willa and Elnath, who had been busy discussing Elnath’s very successful interview with Professor Flamel in the sitting room when Hélène barged in with the boy in question, that he was not worth remembering.

The boy had been very loud and the shared wall between Willa and Hélène’s bedrooms was not soundproof and no Silencing charm Willa tried seemed to work. Worth remembering or not, she did not think she would forget him, even if she never learned his name.

The school week was grueling and full of homework. Willa barely saw Elnath, and Braxton practically begged her to be his study partner. She agreed, needing someone to work with herself, and they scheduled Tuesdays and Thursdays in the dining room to study together.

Before Willa knew it, the day was Saturday again, and Headmaster Hayward was pulling her into a picturesque office in the faculty tower for the weighing of her wand. This apparently was a full ceremony, complete with reporters and sketch artists, as Septimus had predicted.

Willa recognized Marcellus Lestrange before he introduced himself, as Hélène greatly resembled her father and his robes were fastened with the same raven emblem that adorned Hélène’s bedroom door. He appeared similar in age to his sister, the headmistress, which made him at least in his fifties, perhaps older than that judging by his tight, gray curls. As he approached, she reinforced her occlumency. Well-intentioned as Septimus’ warning not to trust anyone at Beauxbatons had been, it was entirely unnecessary as Willa already trusted no one except him.

“You must be Mlle. Wilhelmina Gamp? Hélène was so delighted to learn she would be hosting you and has given me a full report on how wonderful you are. Her comments on your beauty simply fail to do the real thing justice.” M. Lestrange said to her. “I am Marcellus Lestrange, editor of _Le Sorcier de Paris_ and Hélène’s father. We are both great admirers of your father.”

“Yes, she mentioned straightaway. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, M. Lestrange.” Willa replied with a polite curtsy.

“Please, call me Marcellus.” He smiled the same way Hélène did for Bertok and Braxton, and Willa felt her skin crawl.

Something in her told her to turn on the charm though, that he would be the kind of ally she ought to keep. That if he believed she liked him, he would divulge more information to her about the state of his allegiance to the _Anti-Moldus_.

So, she held out her hand for him to take, smiling back as she said, “As you like, Marcellus.”

He took her hand and kissed it, then led her to the other two Champions, who sat on either side of an empty third chair clearly meant for her. Willa took her seat and the school heads came forward.

“My brother will interview you all as you sit for portraits.” Headmistress Lestrange began. “Then the wandmaker will weigh the wands while we all observe to ensure fairness. Afterwards the reporters for _The Daily Prophet_ and _Varázslatos Közlöny_ will likely wish to interview their country’s Champions.”

The three Champions nodded their understanding and the heads went back to talking amongst themselves.

“Glad I told them to start Quidditch without me.” Xabi muttered to Willa.

“I hope we do not miss too much of it.” Willa replied quietly. “I really wanted to see Braxton in action.”

“Same here.” Xabi nodded.

“Xabier Ibarra Zabala, the youngest Chaser ever on the Spanish national team. We all know you by now.” M. Lestrange said joyfully. “And Wilhelmina Gamp, your family name is easily recognized throughout France. But Bertok Grindelwald, I am afraid we are yet to hear of you, young man. Tell me, what led you to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

Bertok launched into a prepared response, clearly having practiced his French for this interview. M. Lestrange proceeded with very standard questions for all of them and Willa felt no concern over any of it. The weighing of the wands was uneventful. The French wandmaker inspected each of their wands, noting the cores and wand wood as he went, a small marvel at Willa’s unicorn mane hair.

Xabi left right after this, no further interviews required of him, and Willa gave him a wave wishing she could go with him down to the Quidditch pitch. The Daily Prophet reporter was no one she recognized, someone young and unimportant, and she practically had to run the interview for him. She finished up before Bertok, who was busy chattering away in Hungarian with the bushy haired man from Varázslatos Közlöny, and she was nearly out the door when she realized she did not know how to get to the Quidditch pitch. When she asked Headmistress Lestrange, M. Lestrange stepped in, “Allow me to guide her, Delphine. I would venture a guess my Hélène is down there.”

Headmistress Lestrange consented and Willa reinforced her occlumency yet again, nodded goodbye to Headmaster Hayward, and thanked M. Lestrange as he held open the door for her.

Once past Flamel Fountain, he led Willa through the formal garden, its central walkway providing the main artery to the school ground’s network of well-worn pathways. Willa knew the first turnoff to be the route to Care of Magical Creatures. He directed her beyond that and explained each new turnoff as they passed them: the glacial lake down the first one on the left, the gamekeeper’s estate and stables down the next, the mountain hiking trails down the next to the right, and finally the way to the nearby magical village of Bonargues that sat high in the Pyrenees inaccessible to Muggle roads.

“I have enjoyed reading your newspaper since arriving at Beauxbatons, M. Lestrange.” Willa began after they passed this final turnoff.

"Now Wilhelmina, I insist, please call me Marcellus." He interrupted.

I apologize, Marcellus.” Willa continued with a feigned smile before pushing into her true agenda. “The paper’s coverage of the Muggle revolution is extensive. I am shocked by how much you publish.”

"You disapprove?"

"No, I am merely impressed your readers want the information. The Daily Prophet would not print many of the things Le Sorcier does." She said.

“The Prophet is far from a balanced newspaper.” He laughed.

“Such an interesting term, ‘balanced’. I myself was curious about the news of magical France, as Le Sorcier seems rather imbalanced in its coverage of this?” Willa pressed.

“What would you wish to see covered?” he asked with a hint of condescension and Willa knew she had found the chip in his armor. Her next words would need to be strategic.

“Oh, the usual coverage of government and public opinion on intervention. The type of thing my father and I saw in America as the post-revolutionary violence continued.” Willa shrugged.

“What exactly do you know about what transpires in France?” he asked, his tone lighter, but his attempts at legilimency growing stronger. Willa reinforced her occlumency yet again.

“Very little, to be honest with you, Marcellus.” She lied.

“It is perhaps more complex than you would expect from your experience in America. Difficult to provide accurate reports because information tends to come without proof of facts.” He said and then relaxed and leaned closer to her to say in a low voice, “Between us, committing to one opinion or another is not very good for subscription numbers. Those against intervention seem to far outnumber those in favor, so it is all I can do to provide information on what is happening to the Muggles they refuse to protect.”

Willa looked him over a moment and then asked, “So you are in favor of intervening to save Muggle lives?”

“Well, no one has asked me so frankly before, Wilhelmina, but only one answer I can provide is not treasonous.” M. Lestrange stopped walking to face her directly. “I have never considered myself a dangerous man, though your tone suggests perhaps you prefer one. Someone more similar to Ardan?”

“You consider my father dangerous, Marcellus?” Willa asked evenly.

“No one becomes the best scourer hunter in the world without being dangerous. I still find it enraptures me.” He said in a quiet, sensual manner that made Willa’s hair stand on end. He cupped his hand around her waist and guided her forward saying, “The pitch is just through here.”

They passed through a magical barrier that had been blocking the Quidditch pitch entirely from sight and sound. It was quite close to where they stood, and Willa realized without this barrier it would easily be visible from the palace, spoiling the landscape.

“Such incredible magic!” she exclaimed, then broke into a run towards the stands, glad to be free of his inappropriate touch but also working to secure him as an ally.

M. Lestrange let out a laugh and took off after her, puffing as he reached where Willa stood searching the crowd for Hélène. Ardan’s voice ran through her mind from when she was thirteen and he was teaching her how to manipulate people without using magic: _Men are easiest because they believe themselves superior. Ensure they need to catch you, and they will give you anything you request._

“You make me feel young again.” M. Lestrange joked, still catching his breath.

“You do not sound young with all that huffing and puffing.” Willa teased.

“I must practice running after you more often then.” He grinned.

Willa smiled to herself, now all that remained was to deliver the hook.

She turned to him and said coyly, “I cannot recommend chasing me, Marcellus, for you will find me more elusive than my Demiguise.”

He pursed his lips and said nothing, but she could see it in his eyes that he would consider it his own personal challenge to catch her.

Willa turned back to the crowded stands and found Hélène, “Ah, but there is your daughter now.”

They trudged upwards to the lower stands where Hélène sat with Penelope.

“Papa!” Hélène exclaimed as they approached. She jumped up to hug and kiss her father, then asked him pointedly, “Should Willa be sitting between us?”

“Whatever you want, my dear Hélène.” He smiled and she nodded.

M. Lestrange reached back to guide Willa past him, his hand lingering on her far too long to be considered appropriate. Only Penelope seemed to notice; her posture stiffened and her expression hardened. Hélène pulled Willa down and said breezily, “Papa, you remember Penelope.”

“Yes, hello Penelope.”

“Hello,” she said with a quick nod and then looked at the pitch, “My fiancé has just come on.”

“Have you seen Braxton yet?” Willa asked.

“Yes! He is incredible. Look, he is just there.” Penelope said with excitement, her entire demeanor shifted back to how she typically behaved as she pointed out Braxton to Willa.

Willa knew little about the technical aspects of Quidditch, but she could tell within a few seconds that Braxton was as talented as everyone had told her. She became mesmerized as she continued to watch him. His movements were precise yet fluid, and it reminded her of when he walked through the crowd at Three Broomsticks. It did not hurt that the Quidditch robes were even more form fitting in France than England, and Willa realized Braxton would likely have a large number of admirers after today.

Her mind shifted to Septimus, wondering if he had any interest in Quidditch. It seemed unlikely, probably the same level as her or Rigel. She let out a small sigh as homesickness hit her again, but when her mind attempted to picture home, she could only recount being alone with Septimus in the upstairs hallway of Malfoy Manor, his eyes staring into hers in the dim light.

“Willa?” Hélène was asking. “My father asked you a question.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I became distracted.” Willa said.

Hélène laughed, “Yes, Braxton is very distracting.”

“No, she has her Percival look on.” Penelope said with a giggle. “Does Percival play Quidditch?”

Willa blushed and said, “Not to my knowledge.”

“Who is this Percival?” M. Lestrange asked.

Willa let go a mischievous smile as she turned to him, “He is my demiguise.”

“Oh, I thought that was a joke.” He laughed.

“I bet you did.” Willa said, still smiling.

He laughed easily and said, “I was asking if you watched much Quidditch at Ilvermorny?”

“Oh, no. Only one game when my brother decided to pursue a girl on the team. It did not go well.” Willa remarked, wishing she had not brought up Ciaran the moment she did. Thankfully no one pressed her on it.

“Willa, do you know of blasting beignets?” Penelope asked after a moment.

“No?”

“I did not think so. They are serving them in the south stands. Come with me to get some so Hélène can have time alone with her father.” Penelope said.

Willa excused herself and followed Penelope out of the stands. When they were on the ground and headed around the outside of the pitch, Penelope stopped walking and looked around furtively.

She then looked at Willa with a very serious expression, “I am only going to say this once and I cannot explain it or answer any questions about it. Once I say it, we will never speak of it again to anyone, not Hélène, not Elnath. Please consider it a warning, not a threat. I am only telling you because I wish someone had warned me.”

Willa nodded her understanding.

“Do not flirt with Marcellus. Do not insert yourself into his life. If he writes to you after today, do not reply.” Penelope said.

Willa had a million questions, especially given Penelope’s clearly intentional choice to use M. Lestrange’s personal name, but Penelope turned to continue walking towards the south stands and she knew the conversation was now closed.


	16. The Beginning of the End

Rigel’s first letters to Willa and Elnath arrived in the middle of the next week, after the newspapers had published the announcement of the Champions. They quickly tore them open at breakfast despite the potentially prying eyes of Hélène and Patrice.

> Dear Willa,
> 
> Congratulations on making Hogwarts Champion. The interview in The Daily Prophet was nice, but the sketch was beautiful. I have to ask how one gets anything done around Beauxbatons when the men there look like Xabier Ibarra Zabala and Bertok Grindelwald? Please do not tell Clement, but I hung up the drawing from the article in my bedroom, and not because it features you. I would wish you luck with the tournament, but I fear you will need more luck keeping focused on school itself with those two specimens around.
> 
> Joking aside, I am doing well here in dreary Scotland. I miss you though. As does Clement. He talks about you and Braxton a lot. It is much quieter here without you two. How is he doing there? I suppose I should just write him myself.
> 
> My letter to Elnath provides more details on Grogan, but he is not doing well without her around. He has a twinge of melancholy to him now, though I am sure it will pass with time. Arlo is helping with the thestrals alongside Josephina Flint, believe it or not. Actually, she is becoming much more involved now that Elnath and Quintus are gone and Professor Ingerson decided not to replace their prefect positions. Josephina and I have become the de facto Prefects – not something I was looking for this year. So, I had her recruit Octavia to the task unofficially. Alongside Abigail, who thankfully has mellowed out some, those girls are Hogwarts’ new Troublesome Trio. Octavia is a good kid. She is thriving without Quintus around to monitor her behavior. Her wit is undeniably hilarious. It is funny how modified we become with certain people around. I admit to finding my life a bit freer without Elnath around.
> 
> Write me with all of your updates! I want to know every detail about France and the students there. Let me know how Elnath is actually doing, since whatever she writes me back with will be likely entirely about potions and Nicholas Flamel.
> 
> Your cousin,
> 
> Rigel

Willa smiled and closed her letter, glancing at Elnath who was only midway through her considerably longer correspondence. As she peered at her letter, she noticed that he did not use the term ‘basilisk’ but rather a repeated ‘B.’ or ‘Mama B.’ The majority of the letter appeared dedicated to updates on the basilisk and her eggs, which she had laid. There were three eggs total and Rigel was working hard to bring three baby basilisks into the world. Willa could see Elnath physically relax as she read the report on her basilisks, as if it were her own child that was giving birth.

Finally Elnath finished and folded the letter up.

“Everything going well?” Willa asked her.

“Yes, very well.” Elnath smiled broadly.

“I thought it was funny Rigel seems to have become friends with Octavia and her gang.” Willa laughed.

“What do you mean? He did not mention her at all in my letter.” Elnath frowned.

“Oh, he just mentioned he and Josephina are the only Prefects now, so he had her recruit Octavia, and Abigail is helping. I guess they are the new troublesome trio.” Willa smiled.

“Do you think he is attached to one of them?” Elnath asked, drinking her pear juice.

“Not at all.” Willa shook her head.

“Why not? They are all somewhat attractive. Well, perhaps not Octavia.” Elnath shrugged. “I worry for him. He has not taken interest in anyone his entire time at Hogwarts.”

“You should not worry for him, he will be fine.” Willa said breezily and sipped some of her coffee. “Besides, those three are all so young for him.”

“So young? Like you for Percival or me for—” she stopped mid-statement and Willa assumed she was about to say Grogan, but then Elnath turned to Patrice and asked, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” he said.

“Two years then, no different a span than Rigel and one of those three.” Elnath said to Willa.

“Rigel will be eighteen in December and they are all fifteen, so it is different.” Willa said then grinned and leaned in to ask in English, “Besides, when did you and Patrice become a couple?”

Elnath blushed as Patrice chimed in with broken English, “Yes, when did we become a couple, Miss Black? This is exciting news for me.”

“You and Patrice are together?” Hélène asked in French with such excitement her voice carried.

Elnath opened her mouth to protest all of this, but then closed it again and looked at Patrice, “Well, what do you think?”

“Does it mean I can kiss you right now?” he asked, a playful smile across his face.

“If we are attached, then yes.” Elnath shrugged.

“Then yes.” Patrice said with a laugh before leaning over to kiss her.

It was not a casual kiss either. Willa wondered if it even was their first kiss or if they had been hiding the relationship until they were more certain about it. Not that they had known one another long enough for that, as it had been only two weeks since they arrived at Beauxbatons. Once she could, Willa pushed into her cousin’s mind to learn that Elnath had in fact spent Saturday evening with Patrice walking through the gardens and he had first kissed her that night in the gazebo behind Flamel Fountain.

Hélène squealed with delight and Penelope and Xabi both laughed in excitement. Braxton showed up after this all died down and slid next to the open space beside Willa.

“What did I miss?” he asked, pouring himself a large coffee.

“A lot,” Willa laughed, then saw he looked terrible as though he had not slept. “Are you all right? Where is Bertok?”

Normally Braxton and Bertok arrived together at breakfast from their shared dorm.

“Oh, I do not know where he is, but I am fine…well, I was up late.” He said then looked around the dining hall as if searching for someone. His expression changed to shameful panic when he spotted the person in question, and Willa followed his eyeline to find Bastien Saint-Claude laughing melodically with Catherine Avery. Quintus was not with them, which confused Willa until the Malfoy boy approached their table.

“How are you this morning?” Quintus asked Braxton quietly in English.

“I am fine, thanks.” Braxton said tightly, his face flamed red.

“Quintus, what the hell do you want?” Elnath asked coldly.

Quintus stared at her, his pale blue eyes intense as he glanced at Patrice then back at her.

“Nothing.” He said tersely. “I wanted to check on Braxton, but he is fine.”

Willa put her arm around Braxton protectively and gave Quintus a look that clearly indicated he should leave.

“How is Percival doing, or have you two ended things?” Quintus asked her suddenly, eyeing her arm around Braxton’s shoulder.

“He is quite well. We are stronger than ever.” Willa replied with a smile, strengthening her occlumency but not releasing Braxton.

In truth Septimus was upset with her for flirting with M. Lestrange for information. Well, specifically his words were that he was “concerned she had been alone with Marcellus as he was entirely untrustworthy.” Based on Penelope’s warning she understood more clearly the concerns and had apologized. His response to her apology letter had not yet arrived.

“How nice.” Quintus said. He looked at Penelope and Hélène for a brief moment and then said in a low voice to Braxton, “See you in class.”

Braxton nodded and Quintus left.

“What happened?” Willa asked immediately.

Braxton groaned.

“Bastien?” Penelope offered. Braxton nodded miserably and she gave him a pitying look, “His veela blood is especially toxic.”

“But what happened?” Willa asked Braxton.

“I will explain later.” He said, drinking half his coffee at once.

Later ended up being the next evening during their Thursday study session. Braxton explained that he had felt the overwhelming need to impress Bastien, so he memorized the password to sneak into his dorm’s sitting area and had begun to sing to him while playing violin. Only Bastien had rejected him without much sympathy. Willa assured him this was not so bad, but then he explained that he had not given up and stayed there for another thirty minutes until finally Quintus came out and escorted him back to his dorm. He admitted that Quintus had stayed with him until he fell asleep, which he assumed was to ensure he did not return to their tower. Willa thought Quintus probably was just being kind but did not say this.

Given how much Braxton hated the Malfoys and the fact no one at Hogwarts beyond Arlo, Clement, and Rigel knew he was interested in men as well as women, the entire thing was a disaster in his mind. Despite her own surprise at his bisexuality, Willa again assured him it was not as bad as he perceived it. She then told him Beauxbatons was hardly the place to worry about his sexuality being judged and explained that the night of intramural Quidditch she had walked in on Penelope and Hélène kissing intimately in their sitting room. Braxton relaxed at this story, so Willa did not elaborate that Hélène had asked Willa to join them only for Penelope to angrily reject the idea before Willa could even decline.

* * *

Friday morning brought both Galanta back from Boston and Percival’s owl for Willa, as well as one of Hogwarts’ school owls for Elnath.

“Who would send you a school owl?” Willa asked.

Elnath shrugged and looked at the handwriting on the envelope with a frown. “Do you recognize it?” she asked Willa.

“No… I do not think so.” Willa said and looked at Braxton, who sat beside her with Bertok. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”

Braxton glanced at it and furrowed his brow a moment, then recognition washed over his face and he glanced at Patrice before looking back to Willa to say, “Yes, from when you and I were late for Divination our first day.”

“Oh!” Willa exclaimed and said quickly to Elnath in Parseltongue, “It is from Grogan.”

Elnath nodded and tucked the letter away before pulling Patrice in for a quick peck. Willa opened the letter from her mother and gave it a scan.

“Anything interesting?” Braxton asked her.

“No, not really. She enjoyed the articles about me and the drawings. My parents subscribe both to _The Daily Prophet_ and _Le Sorcier de Paris_.” Willa explained.

“Why is she asking you about Mr. Malfoy? Does she mean Quintus?” Braxton asked, peering at her letter.

“Nosy much?” Willa said, hitting him on the nose with her baguette slice. He pretended to bite into it as she glanced at the section in question to see her mother was asking if Septimus would be at the first task.

“No, she means Septimus. She is asking if he will be the representative for the British Ministry at the Triwizard Tournament.” Willa shrugged.

“Septimus Malfoy?” Hélène asked.

Willa nodded.

“Why would he come?” Braxton grumbled.

“Well, he did announce the tournament, and he is in France already.” Willa shrugged.

“He is in France now? How do you know this?” Hélène asked.

“Your father wrote about it in Tuesday’s paper.” Willa said with nonchalance.

“Was there an image?” Hélène grinned.

“No,” Willa rolled her eyes, though she wished there had been.

“You find him attractive?” Braxton asked Hélène in shock.

“You do not?” she challenged with a smirk.

“He is a monster.” Braxton said harshly.

“He is not a monster. Please, you are overreacting entirely.” Willa said somewhat more angrily than she should have.

“Either way, he is far too old for you find attractive.” Braxton shot at Hélène.

“He is not old. What is he, thirty something? My father is fifty-eight and Willa took no issue in flirting with him.” Hélène protested loudly.

“You what?” Braxton turned to Willa, but she was glaring at Hélène.

“I will see you in class, Braxton.” Willa said tightly, then stood and left the table.

She marched out of the dining hall and across the courtyard to the sculpture hall, which was nearly always empty at this time of day. Its sculptures were made of all sorts of materials, including ice and a type of molten rock that was in constant motion as part of the design. She made her way to the Muggle materials section and settled beside a black marble scene of three nymphs to open Septimus’ letter.

> My beautiful Willa,
> 
> Of course I would forgive you if there were something for which you ought to apologize. The truth is, I worry about you far more than you need to be worried about. I do not mean to, but I simply cannot help it. The idea of anyone or anything harming you is impossible to bear. I care for you too greatly.

Willa let herself enjoy this opening paragraph for a few moments before continuing. She needed to think of Septimus in this context, without all the external opinions of Braxton and Hélène.

> The information you gathered from Marcellus was helpful, and while it appears we can count him as an ally to the _Pro-Moldus_ , he is no ally of mine. Your note about Penelope’s warning confirms for me his character is as I thought. I pity his daughter, whose mother died in childbirth with her, because she was only raised by her father and three brothers. From the two brief times I met her, it was apparent. I recognise she is your host there, so either you already know this or she behaves different with people her age. Still, Marcellus has never written a positive thing about me, and frankly his lack of coverage on the magical community is more detrimental than helpful. Most people are worried for their safety, rather than concerned for the Muggles’ welfare.
> 
> I do long to see you again and grow tired of only being able to communicate in letters. Perhaps I was jealous that Marcellus had the opportunity to see you when I have not since the first of September? I had not thought of it in this way, but I suppose I must admit to feeling jealousy of everyone who is permitted the opportunity to spend time with you when I am not. You do cause me to experience many emotions I am not accustomed to feeling. I can only hope the first task falls on a date soon after this coming Monday when they announce it. Perhaps I will arrange to stay overnight in Bonargues for that task, under the pretense of visiting Quintus the next day so I can see you both days. Let me know if you would prefer that.
> 
> No updates on Dobbins, which is positive news for now. I hope your coursework has evened out and is less overbearing than before. I fear I have little else to write you at this point, as not much transpires here. Ever since they captured Brussels earlier this week, it feels as if something is brewing in the French Muggle government, but there are no reports as of yet.
> 
> Missing you fondly,
> 
> Septimus

Willa let out a sigh and folded the letter. She definitely preferred to see him two days in a row, even if it would not be unchaperoned at all. Though she was not certain how she would circumvent Hélène’s nosiness when he visited on the second day. Elnath was enough preoccupied with Patrice and alchemy lessons, Braxton would steer clear of any Malfoy activity on the grounds, and Penelope was apt to avoid any potential conflict. Hélène, however, would likely want to see as much of Septimus as possible. Willa groaned, wishing she could just go back to Bonargues with Septimus overnight. That would be ideal. She got lost in this fantasy for long enough that she had to run to make it to her first class on time.

* * *

Monday after dinner the Champions and school heads met to announce the first task. Headmistress Lestrange led them to her office in the Southeast Tower to give the instructions. It was a large and well-appointed room, much like the rest of the palace but with a slightly elevated feel to it. She sat them all in the vast office’s parlour area and then opened a sealed parchment and began to read from it.

“The First Task will test each Champion’s artistic sensibilities and mastery. Specifically, it will address the individual’s skills in music and creative orchestration. The school’s herd of Mooncalves will play centerpiece to this task, set for the next full moon on Wednesday the twenty-eight of November. The herd performs its monthly dance at this phase of each lunar cycle around Flamel Fountain. The Champion’s task is to compose and perform a piece of music to accompany ten minutes of this dance. Additionally, each Champion must design and orchestrate a fountain show to match their performance and provide an artistic backdrop to the mooncalves’ dance.” Headmistress Lestrange paused here as she adjusted the parchment so the next portion was visible.

“To improve the variety and enjoyment of each piece, the Champions will be permitted one companion of their choice to perform musically. Companions are strictly forbidden from helping to compose and create any part of the music or fountain show. Companions must come from the Champion’s school. Any instrument may be used or manipulated to produce the final orchestration of the performance, and Champions should secure their required instruments and prepare their methods for orchestration beforehand. Judges will provide combined marks on the performance skill, creativity in both orchestration and use of magic, and overall aesthetic. To ensure the best experience for the spectators, no explanation of the task shall be provided beyond the date and time. Champions may only provide information to their companion of choice regarding the task. Any other form of communication may be grounds for disqualification and zero points for this task.”

She looked up at the three Champions to see if they had any questions.

“Will we be permitted to use any instrument in the school, headmistress?” Willa asked.

“Yes, Miss Gamp. That is correct.” Headmistress Lestrange nodded.

“Are we responsible for relocating the instruments to the grounds in front of Flamel Fountain, mam?” Willa asked.

“Oh, no.” Headmistress Lestrange frowned, not anticipating this question. She recovered and confirmed with a glance at the other heads, “No, the caretaker will relocate the instruments requested by each Champion and set them up as desired by the Champion for their performance. You must provide your list of needed instruments and their layout to M. Lierre no later than nine o’clock on the morning of November 28th.”

The three Champions nodded their understanding.

“Can we meet the mooncalves beforehand, mam?” Bertok asked.

“No, the mooncalves are native to the grounds here and we try to avoid interaction with them as much as possible so they continue to thrive.” Headmistress Lestrange replied.

“Mam, how large is the herd?” he asked.

“Around one hundred mooncalves.” She replied.

The four foreigners were all impressed as their grounds lacked mooncalves entirely. Willa had seen Ilvermorny’s mooncalf herd, but it was only fifty large.

“Are there any further questions?” the headmistress asked.

The three Champions shook their heads and she adjourned the meeting and led everyone to the exit. Willa’s mind was fast at work creating ideas for her performance. The only thing she knew for certain was that Braxton would be her companion of choice.

Headmaster Hayward walked beside her out of the tower, “Miss Gamp, walk with me a moment.”

She obliged and followed him towards the ornate front stairwell. Once they were away from the others, he began to speak to her in English.

“I am excited this is the task. I believe you are the top runner to win it, as I know you have quite the skill in this area. Do you think you will need any help with the fountain show?” he asked, leading her onto the small covered bridge that led to the Central Tower. He stopped midway on the bridge so they would be totally alone and away from prying ears.

“I did not think I could accept any help, sir.” Willa said.

“Well, not officially of course.” The headmaster smiled.

“Ah, I see.” Willa smiled too, but added, “No, I have manipulated water before. I do not think the magic will pose any difficulties for me, sir. I just need to come up with the concept.”

The headmaster nodded, regarding her a moment before he asked, “Will you choose Mr. Bagshot?”

“Without question, sir. None of the others even have musical talent.” Willa said.

“You two seem to be getting along quite well here.” Headmaster Hayward commented.

“Yes, we are close friends, sir. He is well suited to Beauxbatons, I believe.” Willa said easily.

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, just the climate. He seems at ease here, sir.” Willa said, realizing the relaxed nature of the school was actually what led to Braxton’s comfort, along with the fact that no one knew about his family’s situation back home.

“More so than at Hogwarts?” the headmaster asked.

“I am hardly the person to ask, sir.” Willa laughed. “I have been here for nearly as long as I spent at Hogwarts.”

Headmaster Hayward laughed loudly at this and then looked at her to say warmly, “Well, I am glad you are our Champion.”

“Thank you, sir.” Willa smiled.

“We should get to bed. I am confident in your talents for this task, so there is little more to discuss.” He said with a nod and then headed for the palace’s front stairwell. They walked back up to the second floor and she bid him a formal goodnight at the Southeast Tower before continuing around the corner and down the hall to her own tower.

Inside her dorm’s sitting room, it appeared everyone had already gone to bed or was elsewhere. Hélène had apologized Friday afternoon for her suggestion that Willa had been flirting with her father and Willa, by then knowing what her upbringing had entailed, forgave her easily. What she did not realize was that Hélène had reprimanded her father for flirting with Willa.

Braxton too had apologized in their first class for being so quick to believe what Hélène insinuated. Now Willa noticed the emergency evening edition of _Le Sorcier de Paris_ lying on the table. The front page boldly read: **MUGGLES TO DETHRONE EUROPE**.

Willa snatched the paper and rapidly read the detailed article. M. Lestrange had not minced words and it appeared the National Convention of the Muggle French Republic had determined earlier that day their right to intervene in any country “where people desire to recover their freedom.”

With their invasion of Austrian Netherlands just last month, Brussels finally falling to the French Republic forces last week, this could only mean France wished to conquer Europe. Assisting those not in power to openly revolt against their governments would lay the foundation for France to then seize control as they helped these revolutionaries build a new government.

She did not need Muggle Studies to determine what was at stake, her thoughts immediately going to the Black family who still owned the County of Oxfordshire. Despite the International Statute of Secrecy preventing them from officially collecting money and crops from the Muggles who lived and farmed there, they still did so a century later. Uncle Castor had not sought out forms of magical employment like the Malfoys or Gamps had, and the majority of the Blacks’ vast wealth was built upon Muggles following a class system the crown enforced. The Blacks, of course, were not in contact with the British monarchy or aristocracy, and they especially did not pay any Muggle taxes, but the Muggles who lived in their county believed all of that was true. They believed Uncle Castor to be the county’s lord, Rigel to be his noble heir, and Aunt Nerodia and Elnath to be noble ladies.

Willa glanced at the closed door of her cousin’s bedroom, all the horrible manners of execution the Jacobins laid upon their own aristocracy rushing forward in her mind until she felt physically ill. She looked at the article again, trying to determine a timeline from today’s declaration, but it did not seem the French Muggles had a plan, just an idea. _An idea can be killed if not allowed to grow,_ she reasoned. But the idea had already grown. First the colonies in America, now France. Last year’s uprising in the colony of Haiti had made the American papers, and of course the Irish were in a building frenzy against English rule. After Septimus had mentioned Thomas Paine’s treasonous essays to her, she had read them. They mostly discussed the need for the people of England to follow France’s example of revolution.

There was another way out of all of this, though: magical intervention. By suspending or disbanding the International Statute of Secrecy for just a short while, the European magical community could shut down the potential conflicts before they even began. It was what the _Pro-Moldus_ wanted for France, and Willa wondered if now it would happen. She hurried to her room to pen a letter to Septimus, though she anticipated one would arrive from him in the morning.

* * *

When she got to breakfast the next morning, however, Percival’s owl was not waiting for her. Instead Headmaster Hayward caught her as she entered the dining hall and led her to where Headmistress Lestrange stood with the British Ministry’s Opposition Leader, Artemisia Lufkin.

“Ah, Miss Gamp, good morning. So nice to see you again.” Mrs. Lufkin said to her.

“You as well, Mrs. Lufkin. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Willa asked with a curtsy. She noticed both Headmistress Lestrange and Headmaster Hayward roll their eyes at her curtsy, as if neither respected Mrs. Lufkin’s position of authority.

“I am here to escort you to Paris to help with an urgent request from the British Ministry. We believe you are the only one suited for this task.” She explained, then looked at the two school heads to add, “It is a direct order from Minister Osbert himself.”

“A direct order?” Headmistress Lestrange murmured, glancing at Willa with an impressed expression.

“How long will it take? She has to prepare for the First Task.” Headmaster Hayward asked impatiently.

“We will return tomorrow. It will take two days including the travel, as we cannot use the Floo Network to travel into the capital with the Muggle conflict.” Mrs. Lufkin explained.

“Two full days?” the headmaster protested.

“Headmaster, I think this trip will in fact help with my preparations.” Willa finally interjected. “It will afford me the privacy that Beauxbatons cannot.”

Headmaster Hayward weighed this and seeing he was not fully convinced, Willa leaned closer and said softly to him in English, “I am certain the embassy will have a piano, sir.”

This worked. He nodded his consent, sharing a smug look with Willa before he turned to Artemisia to say, “Miss Gamp will accompany you, complete this request for the Ministry, and return promptly after it is done. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Mrs. Lufkin smiled politely and gave a curt nod. She then looked to Willa with more urgency and said, “Miss Gamp, I am afraid we need to leave now. I have prepared a packing list for you and we will take breakfast on the flight back to Paris.”

Willa nodded, took the packing list, and spun on her heel to hurry back up to her dormitory. The list was short and did not include any evening wear. Willa rolled her eyes at this and picked an outfit she thought Septimus would most appreciate. There was no way she was going all the way to Paris not to see him that evening, even if it were in secret. _Especially if it is in secret_ , she thought with a grin.

“Where are you going?” Elnath asked walking into her room as she hurriedly used magic to fold her various garments.

“Paris, overnight. Artemisia Lufkin came to collect me for something official.” Willa explained then smiled mischievously at her cousin, “I am hoping to see Percival while I am there.”

“You had better!” Elnath laughed. “Do you need any help?”

“No, nearly finished.” Willa said, gathering up her school materials for the coursework she would miss. “Actually, can you ask Braxton to take notes for me today and tomorrow? It sounds as though I will miss classes both days.”

Elnath nodded and watched Willa close the small travel trunk she had transfigured from her larger trunk, “Did Mrs. Lufkin explain what you will be doing?”

“No, she was vague. Minister Osbert ordered that I come though, whatever that means.” Willa said.

“Do you think it is to do with Mr. Malfoy? Did you not say he is in Paris at the moment?” Elnath asked.

“I do not know.” Willa shrugged as her heart raced at this prospect. “But, Mrs. Lufkin is in a rush, so I need to go now that I am packed.”

The cousins hugged briefly and then Willa dragged her trunk down to the second-floor hallway where a house elf was waiting to assist her in apparating it to the carriage out front. Once in the driveway, Willa climbed inside the carriage with Mrs. Lufkin and they began their journey to Paris.

It took about four hours, and after eating breakfast, Willa chose to spend it peppering Mrs. Lufkin with questions about her career in the Ministry. She soon learned that before climbing the ranks of her party, she had worked closely under her father after he quit being an Auror. Willa reinforced her occlumency as Mrs. Lufkin launched into praise of her father’s work ethic and a series of stories regarding him.

Finally they felt the lifting of the concealment charms as they passed into unplottable Paris and soon their thestral-drawn carriage landed on the ground and rolled up in front of their destination: the foreign embassy. The embassy was in a large _hôtel particulier_ close to the center of Rue des Balais and felt incredibly formal inside, featuring a salon, full service restaurant, and meeting parlour on the ground floor all with as much attention to lavish detail as Beauxbatons. While it was far grander than the foreign embassy in Baltimore, it served the same function of hosting foreign witches and wizards while they were in town for official business with _le Ministère_.

Mrs. Lufkin led them to the front reception to check Willa into her apartment, which was located directly beside hers. It became apparent in that moment that Mrs. Lufkin considered herself Willa’s chaperone for the trip. They did not go up to the rooms, however, and Mrs. Lufkin instead ushered Willa out to the sidewalk of Rue des Balais so they might walk to the restaurant where they were meeting her colleague for lunch. She did not specify the identity of her colleague, so Willa assumed it would be someone from the Opposition party she had never met.

Glad they had decided to walk, Willa took in the Parisian equivalent to Diagon Alley with interest. It was only the third capital she had ever been to, and Baltimore hardly counted as it had not been the capital for very long. Rue des Balais resembled nothing of the meandering alleyways and crookedly aligned shops of Diagon Alley. Here everything was pristine, classical in architecture, and built with intention to please the eye. Every now and again a popping noise and blurred figure would occur, and Artemisia explained _le Ministère_ engaged house elves to maintain continued cleanliness of Rue des Balais. Willa frowned at this, which Artemisia was pleased to see, though she made no remark. A few minutes later, they reached the restaurant.

The Maître D led the two women through the crowded, but subdued restaurant to a very central and visible table set for three. In the space where a fourth setting would be sat a carafe of red wine. The only thing that interested Willa, however, was Mrs. Lufkin’s colleague, who sat in the middle seat wearing expensive robes with his silky blond hair perfectly groomed.

He stood when they approached, bowing to Mrs. Lufkin and holding his hand out to Willa with a smile. She took it gladly, her heart rate increasing as he bent to kiss her hand after saying, “Miss Gamp, what a pleasure to see you again.”

Standing before her was Septimus Malfoy.


	17. The Treason of Ardan and Lila

Though Willa was taken off guard by Septimus’ presence, she masked her shock saying, “Mr. Malfoy, it is indeed a pleasure. Mrs. Lufkin did not specify which colleague of hers we were meeting. I believe it has been since August at your ball that we last saw one another.”

“You forget when I came to announce the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts.” He said, knowing she had not forgotten. He guided her to her seat and waited for Artemisia to sit before doing so himself while adding, “A tournament in which you are now Hogwarts’ Champion. I offer my congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.” Willa said.

Septimus looked to Artemisia to explain why he had gone to Hogwarts, “Minister Osbert had already come to Paris, and as there is no ministry for international magical cooperation, he dispatched me in his stead to give the announcement.”

“They really ought to create that ministry. England could do with hosting a Quidditch World Cup. We are woefully behind compared with Egypt.” Artemisia replied.

“Perhaps Minister Osbert will establish it soon, given the world’s rapid pace of change.” Willa noted.

“While that sounds prudent, Miss Gamp, it will not happen under this Minister.” Artemisia replied, then looked pointedly at Septimus while adding, “It has been my experience these past three years the Majority and Opposition cannot work together to achieve any lasting change.”

Septimus laughed and took a sip of wine before looking at Willa to say, “She corrupts your opinion unjustly. For it is hardly the Majority’s fault the Opposition will not see reason.”

“Now who corrupts my opinion?” Willa challenged playfully, causing Artemisia to laugh with amusement and affording Septimus the opportunity to give Willa sly smile and penetrating gaze. Willa met his gaze for an intense moment before purposefully parting her lips with her tongue and reaching for the carafe of wine.

Septimus offered to help pour, but she refused him stating, “I am quite capable, thank you, sir.”

Artemisia smiled at this and watched with slight awe as Willa used wandless magic with graceful ease to pour the wine into her glass. She soon noticed the ornate emerald ring on Willa’s right hand and remarked, “What a beautiful ring, Miss Gamp.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I quite love it myself. I received it last month as a birthday gift.” Willa smiled politely and avoided any eye contact with Septimus.

“Oh, from your parents?” Artemisia pressed. It seemed the type of gift the egregiously wealthy would give their child when she came of age. It was a form of wealth that she did not know, the kind that families like the Blacks and Burkes and Malfoys and certainly the Gamps possessed. Ardan’s father had hardly kept it secret he was the wealthiest man in Britain and Ireland.

Willa produced a more dazzling smile as she looked Artemisia in the eye and succinctly said, “No.” Without pause for Mrs. Lufkin’s reaction, Willa floated the carafe towards her and asked, “Wine?”

“Yes, thank you.” She replied with an amused smile as she thought how Willa certainly had inherited her father’s charms.

“The ring’s design is exquisite, Miss Gamp.” Septimus noted casually. “Whomever gave you it clearly has dignified tastes.”

Willa let out a small laugh as she finished pouring Artemisia’s wine and looked at him directly, “Indeed he does. Between us though, I will admit that as refined as his tastes are, he on occasion lacks humility.”

Septimus smiled broadly in response to her veiled jab, “Is humility so capital a quality though? Is it not better to take pride in one’s skills so they may flourish?”

“Perhaps for a man.” Artemisia countered. “For a woman, humility is the only permissible way to present your talents without offending. At least, that has been _my_ experience in the Ministry.”

“Precisely,” Willa said meeting Artemisia’s eyes. “Rather unfair for someone as talented as you. I was impressed with your legislation on elemental transfiguration, Mrs. Lufkin. It is such an overlooked topic in my opinion, I was delighted to see someone taking it on.”

Septimus watched as Artemisia fell prey to the flattery and found himself formidably attracted to Willa’s effortlessness in the art of manipulation. He realized how much he had overreacted to her manipulation of Marcellus Lestrange for information, though that topic had been fully discussed between them and he felt no need to resurface it with an apology.

He agreed with the current conversation’s sentiment, however, and stated, “It is unfair that humility is expected more from your sex.”

Artemisia looked at him with surprise. She had not spent much time with Septimus outside the Ministry and he was shockingly more progressive than his political affiliations suggested.

“As are most things regarding women’s power in society.” Willa shrugged. “Take, for example, the trust I am to come into. If I were a male, I would have right to it now that I am seventeen. I could begin to build my life immediately after school. As a female, however, I must wait until I am twenty-one or married.”

“You do appear to have a serious and well-endowed suitor.” Artemisia noted, looking at Willa’s ring.

Willa noticed Septimus drink some wine at this comment, causing her nerves to tangle. To hear it out loud and in front of him, without him refuting it, made the entire idea that he was her suitor become much more real.

She pushed this thrill down and continued to Artemisia in a didactic tone, “That is not the point though. A woman should be permitted the same agency as a man in building her life without the requisite influence of either her father or husband. It is startling how behind Britain is in this regard as well. Even MACUSA has a female leader, and they are hardly the bannerman for inclusion.”

“France as well has Violette Lavoie as _Ministre_.” Artemisia nodded. She wondered what Willa meant about MACUSA not being inclusive, but their meals arrived then so she did not press.

The three spoke only compliments of the food for a few moments before Willa decided to move the conversation along to its point.

“Tell me, why have you two brought me to Paris? What do you want me to do for you?” she asked.

Septimus smiled to himself at her candor, completely aligned with the Willa he had come to know through their letters, but he remained silent so Artemisia could respond first. He needed Artemisia to think all of this her idea and not his machination.

“Yesterday France’s new Muggle government declared that France can intervene with any nation where its people seek to reclaim their freedom. Meaning, they could disrupt a sovereign nation, like England, through military force.” Artemisia began.

“Yes, they invaded Austrian Netherlands just before I arrived in France. All the Beauxbatons Muggle-born students from that region were very concerned when Brussels fell last week.” Willa said.

Mrs. Lufkin eyed her, looking almost miffed at how informed she was on foreign affairs, and inadvertently insulting Willa by doing so.

“I have been immersed in politics since I was born, Mrs. Lufkin. I know how to stay informed.” Willa said with a tight smile before adding, “But surely you already know this about me as you worked for my father.”

“Miss Gamp,” Septimus began in a smooth tone, “Your father is exactly why we called you here. He is very popular with most of _le Ministère_ , and as his daughter and a Triwizard Champion, you are well positioned to make an impact on their opinion. Much better positioned than Mrs. Lufkin, who is unknown here, and certainly than myself, who is hated by many here.”

He looked to Artemisia, who started again in a quiet voice, “ _Le Ministère_ has called for an emergency open forum for all European magical governments to provide testimony to the idea of breaching the International Statute of Secrecy in order to intervene with the Muggle conflict here before it spreads. This would be the preliminary forum before _le Ministère_ brings anything forward to the International Confederation of Wizards, should they decide to do so.”

Willa leaned in much closer and whispered, “Do they wish to overturn the statute?”

“Absolutely not.” Artemisia said with alarm, but Willa could see in her eyes that she hoped for exactly this outcome.

“No, clearly not. That would be treasonous.” Willa conceded, playing into the façade. “Still, I am unclear on my role?”

“We hoped you to give testimony.” Artemisia said.

“For Ireland?” Willa asked, confused.

“Representing a voice that is not present despite its obvious correlation. That of America.” Septimus clarified.

“You want me to talk about Rappaport’s Law?” Willa surmised.

They nodded.

Willa looked at Septimus with reproach, then threw at them in a low but harsh tone, “And the trial in which my brother was forced to testify, causing such scandal for my family that we had to move to Ohio where mere months later Muggles killed him? Are you sure that is wise?”

“No, I—we—would never ask you to speak on your brother’s death.” Septimus said definitively. His fingers closest to her tightened into a fist as he fought the urge to touch her and he let out a measured breath before saying, “We anticipated something more general, speaking to how Muggle conflicts lead to the need for something like Rappaport’s Law, which further separates the magical and Muggle communities.”

“Which communities?” Willa challenged. “I fear Europe may not be prepared for what America actually is like.”

“Mr. Malfoy did assure me you would need convincing.” Mrs. Lufkin said with slight amusement at how well he predicted the outcome of their conversation. She continued to Willa, “Which is why I plan to take you incognito to the Muggles’ National Convention after lunch. I feel it will help shape your understanding of the Ministry’s goals. You are still welcome to join us, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Unfortunately I have appointments all afternoon in Rue des Balais.” Septimus said then turned to Willa, “But before I return home after work, Miss Gamp, I will meet you for a drink at the embassy’s salon in order to present the Majority’s side of things.”

Willa nodded, drinking some wine to swallow down her excitement at the prospect of an unchaperoned drink with Septimus, even if it was under the scrutiny of the embassy’s many eyes.

“The forum starts at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, and Britain is slotted to go third after Hungary.” Artemisia explained.

“You are escorting Miss Gamp in the morning and I am to meet you in the rotunda of _le Ministère_ , correct?” Septimus confirmed with Artemisia, who nodded.

Willa tucked this schedule away in her brain as a handsome, well-dressed man approached their table. Septimus brightened as he did.

“Vincent!” he cried, standing to greet his friend.

“Septimus, _ça va_?” Vincent said, shaking Septimus’ hand tightly.

“ _Ça va_. May I introduce Mrs. Artemisia Lufkin, Opposition party leader for Britain, and Miss Wilhelmina Gamp, the Hogwarts’ Champion in the Triwizard Tournament.”

“ _Oui_ , I have met Madame Lufkin before.” Vincent said and kissed her hand. “But Mademoiselle Gamp, I have not. _Enchanté, mademoiselle_.”

“ _Parellement, Duc de Trefle-Picques_.” Willa said as he took her hand to kiss it.

“Ah, but you know who I am?” he said in heavily accented English.

“Yes, I have heard of you.” Willa smiled.

Vincent smiled back, not questioning how, and said, “Yes, I have heard of you as well from the papers. Everyone is certain you will lose to Sr. Ibarra Zabala.”

“They are all fools then.” Willa laughed. “For we both will lose to M. Grindelwald.”

Vincent gave her a wink before laughing melodiously, the way the Beauxbatons students with veela blood did. Once he composed himself he said, “I shall see you all tomorrow at the forum.”

They said their goodbyes and he left, throwing Willa a goofy grin before he did. She could not help but wonder if he knew exactly who she was in context to Septimus. She glanced at Septimus to check, but he just smiled and said in general, “He is so nice.”

“Can we count on him though?” Artemisia pressed quietly.

“I would trust him with my life.” Septimus replied in a deep, confident voice that made Willa’s heart beat faster.

Artemisia nodded and became distant, her thoughts on tomorrow. Willa longed for a moment away from her, alone with Septimus. She would have to wait though, for she was to spend the remainder of the afternoon with Artemisia and the French Muggle government.

* * *

Willa answered the knock on her apartment door with haste. The witch outside gave her a quick curtsy before stating in French, “Mademoiselle, there is a gentleman to see you in the salon.”

“Who is he?” Willa asked.

“Monsieur Septimus Malfoy of England.” The witch replied. “Do you wish to see him?”

“Yes, thank you. I will be down shortly.” Willa replied.

“He requests your drink order so he might place it before you arrive.” She continued.

“Firewhisky neat. He may select the label.”

“Mademoiselle,” the witch confirmed with a curtsy and left.

Willa closed the door and hurried to the vanity to verify her appearance was as desired. She had changed into the evening dress she packed about an hour ago and then started on composition ideas for the First Task to pass the time. She pinched both her cheeks and bosom and then scrutinized her hair. There was nothing to be done though, as all her curls were in place. She took a deep breath and then went downstairs.

Septimus waited at the entrance to the salon for her in the same clothes he wore at lunch and brightened as she arrived. He took her in fully then remarked, “How lovely you look, Miss Gamp. Shall we?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” Willa replied.

He did not extend his arm to her, so she walked past him into the salon, noting that their appearance was to be business. He followed directly behind her and the host sat them at a table near one of the fireplaces. A server brought two firewhiskys to their table not even a moment later and Septimus thanked him.

“I got us both Ogden’s. I hope that is all right.” he said to Willa once the server left.

“Yes, Rigel and Elnath have won me over to it.” Willa said then added with a smirk, “Besides, you have such dignified tastes, I knew you would choose something divine.”

Septimus laughed, rolling his eyes before saying, “I trust Artemisia imparted everything you need to know for tomorrow?”

“After we finally left the National Convention, she certainly tried.” Willa laughed.

“She has a way of not being quite able to say what she means.” He nodded. “I do think you distracted her though.”

“How so?”

“You remind her of Ardan and he helped build her career.” He said.

“She did ask me if people remarked on my similarities to him.” Willa said, slipping into an amused smile.

“Do they?” Septimus asked, curious why this was so amusing to her. He assumed she did not wish to resemble Ardan in any form based on their correspondence.

“No, they do not. However, I have encountered people remarking on how like you I am.” Willa said. “Octavia even mentioned that something I say all the time is a saying of yours. ‘Why bother trying—”

“If you do not aim to win.’” Septimus finished with an amused grin. “She hates when I say that. Oh, but this is rich.”

He was biting his lip and blushing.

“What?” Willa pressed.

“I only started saying that after having your mother for my tutor as a first year. She would always say that to me.” He admitted. “Does Slytherin still have tutors for the first years?”

“Yes,” Willa said and then laughed while she shook her head, remarking, “This is uncomfortable.”

“I fear it will only become more so.” Septimus smiled mischievously. He then switched emotions to confirm, “But Artemisia explained everything and you feel comfortable about tomorrow?”

“Yes, I know what I will say.” Willa said then raised an eyebrow at him, “I suppose now it is your turn to lecture me?”

“No,” he said with a charming smile and light laugh. “No, I was certain you were prepared the moment we informed you of our need. I just wanted to see you alone.”

Willa smiled and they stared into each other for a long moment of perfect silence.

“There are a lot of eyes here.” Willa finally remarked.

“Yes, we will have to behave.” Septimus said, then cast praeligo so the room could no longer hear them speak. His eyes brightened as he said, “However, I am certain we have plenty to discuss, Willa.”

“Yes, I believe so, Septimus.” Willa said, more contented than she cared to admit that they could use personal names out loud. She sipped her firewhisky and added, “Specifically, the treason of my father and your wife.”

He let out a long sigh and drank before saying, “Yes, all right.”

“I have mapped the dates to the mysterious death of Minister Crowdy. An assassination, some say.” She looked pointedly at him. Septimus nodded to confirm they were involved in it, and she asked, “What more though? We left in 1783, and the minister died in 1781.”

“I will start from the beginning.” Septimus said. “Though I warn you, it is a long tale.”

“I can manage a second firewhisky if we must.” Willa smiled.

Septimus nodded and began, “No one would marry Lila Burke, so finally her father and mine worked out a deal that gave the Malfoys an ongoing share in his and the Borgins’ appraisal business, in exchange for, well, for me. I was seventeen when we married.”

“How did you feel about the arrangement?” Willa asked. It seemed he had not been permitted much opinion on the matter, similar to how her mother had to marry into a wealthy family to salvage the Gaunt finances.

“I did what I was told.” Septimus said plainly. He hesitated and then added, “But I wanted to love her, so I tried very hard to please her. She has a wildness to her that both my father and I were naïve enough to think I would be able to control.”

“What did she think of the marriage?” Willa asked, noticing he used the present tense to describe her, which further contributed to her building theory that Lila was not actually dead.

“She loved it.” He said. “I was young and beautiful and innocent, and she could easily control me. It allowed her the freedom to leave her family and finally pursue her true desires. Not to mention, my father was Chief Warlock. The perfect setup for her.”

“Seventeen and beautiful? Sounds familiar.” Willa said and pointedly toyed with her ring.

“You are not naïve and, as we have discussed, I am not looking to control you.” Septimus said with frankness before adding more softly, “Besides, I am not inherently evil.”

“Go on.” Willa pursed her lips in amusement and sipped her firewhisky.

“Lila and Ardan were Aurors when I married her and had been partners for a couple of years with excellent capture rates, both being highly skilled trackers. At the beginning of our marriage, she and Ardan were gone for weeks at a time, pursuing dark wizards and criminals throughout the British Isles and the mainland. Their capture rates began to drop dramatically during this time, as most of the wizards slipped out of their reach at the last moment. After two years below target, they were released from the Auror program and moved into other roles within the Ministry. Soon after we had Quintus and Octavia. Obviously Ardan had Ciaran and you around then as well, but we were not friends. Lila was very strict about remaining colleagues and not acquaintances with Ardan. The first time I met you was at Gringotts this August.” Septimus explained, pausing to sip his firewhisky. “At first, Lila was a wonderful mother; attentive, loving, caring. I thought it had softened her, but really she was manipulating my paternal inclinations and biding her time while Ardan amassed their groups of extremists and I grew in ranks at the Wizengamot. High enough up to be able to influence the issuing of pardons. Then they began their attacks.”

“Attacks on who?” Willa asked.

“On Muggles.” Septimus said.

“How many?” Willa asked.

“How many attacks or how many deaths?” he asked. “I lost count, either way. Too many. I did not suspect at first, nor did Dipsas, I imagine. It is difficult to believe someone you are meant to love is capable of murdering scores of people at a time. Maybe if your mother and I had been friends, we would have talked and noticed the trends. But Lila and Ardan were smart. They kept us apart. They recruited while still Aurors, which is what caused their capture rates to drop. They set up attacks to fail and fall to capture by Minister Crowdy’s Auror program to draw attention away from themselves. Finally the minister managed to make a major capture and rout out nearly all their groups. He soon got too close to their identities, and Lila and Ardan had him killed. Everything was calculated for years, starting before I ever married her. They left no evidence to implicate either of them in any of this.”

“When did you figure it out?” Willa asked.

“After Minister Crowdy’s murder, I am ashamed to say.” He replied. “I still do not know which one of them orchestrated it, as both had a solid alibi. Lila hid it from my legilimency once I developed that skill a few years later. My father died shortly after the minister’s death during the start of the Dragon Pox epidemic, and I took over his role as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.”

“You became Chief Warlock at age twenty-five?” Willa asked, shocked. Normally the position went to someone over fifty.

“Twenty-six, but yes, there is a reason nobody likes me.” Septimus laughed.

Willa smiled and relaxed a moment, drinking more firewhisky while Septimus continued with everything he could not put in writing to her.

“Things quieted after Crowdy’s murder. There would be too many inquiries. Two years later, Ardan slipped up and was identified at the scene of a Muggle attack in London. He was brought to trial and sentenced to death for treason in breaching the Statute of Secrecy and for the murder of three Muggles. Lila had warned me going into the trial that Ardan could blackmail the new minister, and when his sentencing came down, he did. That is why so many witches and wizards had to be obliviated, to protect Minister Knatchbull.”

“Why were you not obliviated?” Willa asked.

“As Chief Warlock, I issued the oblivation. The entire trial was erased and I held a private hearing so I could banish him from the country as punishment for his crimes since they technically no longer existed.”

“Why would you not obliviate only the blackmail?” Willa asked.

“The courtroom obliviation does not work like the singular spell. It is a mass obliviation that takes away everything so a fair retrial can take place. In Ardan’s case, he would have just blackmailed the minister again, so a retrial was not an option.” Septimus explained.

“So, who remembers this?” she asked.

“Myself, Porteus Knatchbull, Ardan, and the records keeper at the time, who was bound to secrecy and is now my secretary. Also, Ardan told Lila what happened.” Septimus answered.

“And my mother, does she know?” Willa asked.

“Only if Ardan told her, which seems unlikely.” He said.

Willa nodded vaguely. It seemed more likely her mother knew only whatever lie her father told her as to why Septimus banished him. It was not surprising to learn he had murdered so many Muggles, as he did not view them as equals. She knew for a fact he had killed many No-Majs while performing his scourer hunter duties in America. MACUSA considered it part of the job.

“Are you all right?” Septimus asked in a caring voice after allowing her a moment to digest everything.

“I could not say, truth be told.” Willa said.

“It is a lot of information to gain all at once.” He agreed.

“Surely his arrest was in the Daily Prophet though? What did they tell people?” she said after a long moment of thought.

“The Burke family holds a major share in the newspaper and Lila influenced their print decisions at the time. The narrative was such that Ardan was identified at the crime because he was tracking the suspect. They next printed he was successful and the culprit had been brought to justice.” Septimus sighed. “She made him a hero.”

“What about her? What did you do about her?” Willa asked bluntly.

“I confronted her about all of it and she told me Ardan had placed her under the Imperius Curse, which only lifted once he left British soil.” He said.

“Did you believe her?” Willa said.

“No. I had learned legilimency by then and knew she was lying. I told her I wanted to spend more time with her and the children, and resigned as Chief Warlock to take a lower position in the Ministry that afforded me that time. We rekindled my grandfather’s business in the gem trade and began to travel the world. Under my close watch, she was unable to go back to killing Muggles. The first year was fun. She thought I would give in over time, so she willingly participated in rebuilding my family’s Muggle identities across the globe.”

“Muggle identities?” Willa asked.

“Yes, the Malfoys have always had homes all over the world. Where power resides, so too a Malfoy. We just do not use our name among Muggles.” He explained and added, “That is who Percival truly is.”

“I see.” Willa said and looked at him to continue.

“Once she saw I was not going to leave her unchaperoned ever again, she grew to resent me. She turned the cruelness she typically reserved for Muggles on me. Life became quite miserable, but I bore it all so she would not turn to our children instead.” He paused a long moment, lost in thought, before saying, “After she died, I sought out a position in the Upper House and received the appointment. Eventually Unctuous tapped me to be his Chief Advisor, and here we are.”

Willa took a deep breath and looked around the room. No one was looking at them, which was good, but she felt like everyone knew the truth of her family now.

“Willa?” Septimus said.

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“You could use legilimency.” She suggested.

Septimus frowned, “I do not think that would be appropriate.”

“I was joking.” Willa smiled wryly and then looked him in the eye and said, “I was thinking about the cruelness typically reserved for Muggles being turned on you. Or rather, in my family’s case, on Ciaran and me.”

Septimus winced at this and Willa added without any emotion, “I was thinking that I wish you had let my father’s sentence be carried out instead of protecting the minister.”

Septimus nodded and admitted, “I often wish that, too. I was weak then.”

Willa let out a sigh and said, “I need us to change the topic. Ask me about something.”

“How does Braxton Bagshot get on at Beauxbatons?” Septimus asked without pause, as if he had been considering the question all evening.

“What?” Willa asked, so caught off guard she could not mask the blush that rose within her at the thought of Braxton.

“Quintus told me you two have become friends. Something about twin wand cores and a duel?” Septimus said.

“What else has Quintus told you?” Willa asked, mortified that she had been watched without knowing it.

“That you are very just and compassionate. He said I should push you towards the Wizengamot.” Septimus shrugged.

“Does he _know_?” Willa gaped, her tone clearly indicated she meant about their relationship.

“Both Quintus and Octavia think I have taken you on like I have Rigel.” He clarified. “You must realize I would never share such intimate information without your consent.”

Willa drank some firewhisky to compose herself and finally said, “Braxton seems better suited to Beauxbatons than Hogwarts. The other Champions have both taken to him. He is quite popular and far less sad. He is finally playing Quidditch again.”

“You sound maternal, like you are looking out for him.” Septimus mused.

“To be honest, I feel like he is my brother.” Willa admitted.

Septimus lost his color and whispered, “He is not.”

“It is a matter of speech, Septimus.” Willa said. “Why are you so affected?”

“No, of course. I apologize.” Septimus smiled, relaxing a moment until he saw someone or something behind Willa, across the salon. His expression went cold and he leaned in a bit and muttered, “I have stayed here too long. Pretend I just told you a joke and then cast legilimens on me.”

He removed his Sound Dampening charm and Willa looked him in the eyes and let out an easy laugh. She continued her laugh as she cast into his mind. He was thinking specifically to her, the way Braxton liked to do, stating, “The _Anti-Moldus_ are here. If you are seen with me for longer than a business meeting, it will taint their opinion of you. They are the ones we need to convince tomorrow. Tell me, do you wish to meet Percival later tonight?”

“How?” she asked quietly.

“He is hosting a party for noble-born Muggles, if you were interested in meeting the ones still trapped in Paris. It will be far more relaxing than this salon.” Septimus thought.

Willa nodded and smiled.

“What apartment number are you in?” he thought.

“Fourteen.” She said.

“Perfect.” He said then implemented occlumency so she removed her spell.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

“Yes, I am tired.” She replied.

Septimus smiled subtly at her lie as they stood. He followed her out of the salon and they cordially parted ways in the embassy’s entrance hall. Only after he was gone did Willa realize he had given her no further details about the party. She went up to her room and stripped down to just her undergown so she would be comfortable enough to work on her composition. The room grew cold, so she stoked the fire and pulled on her coat to warm up.

It was well after nine o’clock when she heard a noise from the fireplace. She grabbed her wand from the desk and turned to face whoever emerged from the now green flames. It was Septimus, fully dressed in formal Muggle attire, right down to an ostentatious signet ring that bore the pimpernel flower she knew as Percival’s seal. She lowered her wand. He held his finger to his mouth and beckoned her to him with his other hand. Willa went to him and he pulled her tight against his body, then whispered, “ _Mouron rouge._ ” As soon as the words left his lips, she felt the uncomfortable tug on her navel of apparation.


	18. Percival

They apparated into a gilded, well-lit dressing room. A fire roared in the massive fireplace and an ornate gold clock sat on its pink marble mantelpiece, ticking to 9:21.

“Welcome to my Paris home.” Septimus said. “I apologize that we could not use the front entrance.”

Willa caught her breath from apparating, which had made her feel sick. Septimus noticed and pulled out his wand to cast, “ _Aguamente_ ” into an empty glass next to a half-full firewhisky decanter. She drank the water gratefully and took several deep breaths before feeling better.

“Sorry,” she finally said. “I do not apparate often.”

“I apologize. I set the Floo Network to only go outwards for security reasons. Apparation was the only way back in without being seen by the Muggles.” He said. “Which brings me to the next point.”

He spun her around so she could see the elaborate Muggle gown, bright green with gold accents and a cream colored trim.

“You will need something to wear.” He said softly.

She walked to the gown and fingered the sumptuous fabric. It was expensive, she could tell by its softness. She examined the fit and realized there was no way she could dress herself, even with the aid of magic.

“Septimus,” she began, turning. “Or, Percival? What should I call you?”

“Septimus is fine.” He smiled. “Magic upstairs, Muggles downstairs.”

“We are upstairs?”

“Yes, my bedroom is just through there.” He said as he pointed to a hidden door along the wall beside the fireplace. “The fireplace serves both rooms.”

Willa nodded, her thoughts momentarily lingering on the proximity of his bedroom before she explained, “This gown is too complex for me to put on by myself.”

“Then I will help you.” He said. Upon seeing her face, he clarified, “I cannot keep any servants because what I am doing here is treason in both the magical and Muggle worlds. Hopefully you can overlook the sudden impropriety?”

“Perhaps we can add ‘propriety’ to the list of things you on occasion lack.” Willa gave him a sly smile.

“Yes, well, would you like my help or do you wish to remain in your undergown and coat all evening?” Septimus pursed his lips then added, “I, for one, would not mind the latter option.”

“Yes, I would like your help.” Willa conceded with a roll of her eyes.

He walked to the dress and pulled out his wand, separating the pieces from each other with Mobilus charms and then pushing them towards her in order using a silent, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ” like Willa had done with the carafe of wine at lunch. Willa slipped off her coat, tucking her wand inside it, and floated it to a hook on the wall with wandless magic.

“Arms up.” Septimus said as the stay arrived overhead Willa.

Willa put up her arms, laughing as he slid it over her torso.

“Turn around.” He said.

She did as she was told and he tightened the laces with a charm she noted she would need to have him teach her.

He was quick about the rest of the gown’s various elements, and soon Willa was taking in herself in the room’s standing mirror. Septimus stepped behind her and the full-length, oval shaped mirror became a gilded frame around their reflections.

“It is a strange sensation to see yourself as a Muggle, is it not?” he said.

“I wonder if Muggleborns feel this way when they learn they are a witch?” Willa said.

Septimus’ mouth pulled into a smile in his reflection, but Willa desired to see the real thing and turned to him.

“So, Percival, I imagine you are not some unknown Englishman in Muggle Paris with a _hôtel particulier_ like this one, but I fear I only know your personal name. How exactly shall I address you downstairs?”

“They all know me as Sir Percy Blakeney.” He grinned.

“Well, Sir Blakeney, you should introduce me to your friends.” She said.

“But who exactly am I introducing?”

“Hm, something simple, but hard to trace. Your friend from New Orleans, Marguerite?”

“Must you only be my friend?” Septimus pressed. “Can we not for the night pretend otherwise?”

“What do you propose?” Willa asked.

“I propose that I introduce you as my wife.” He said, his pale blue eyes glowing in the opulent room’s candlelight. Willa wanted to stare into them forever.

Instead she let out a brief laugh and moved her emerald ring from her right hand’s ring finger to her left hand. Its magic tightened it into place and she looked to him, “Yes, for tonight, I can be your wife, Percy.”

“Perfect,” Septimus smiled and then moved closer to her. She could feel the warmth of his body as the pounding of her heartbeat increased. It quickened exponentially as he continued nearer, reached out his hand to stroke her cheekbone, and said with a soft confidence, “Then as my wife, I ought to be allowed to kiss you, Lady Marguerite.”

His lips met the soft skin of her cheek. Willa let out a sudden breath and he smiled to himself before kissing her again, moving closer each time to her eager mouth. Willa had kissed a few men before, but nothing could have prepared her for this. When their lips finally met, her entire body felt abuzz, as if she had too much wine. She lost all sense of reality. The world became a tempest rushing around them, they its center.

For his part, Septimus found kissing Willa even more enjoyable than he expected, and he had set high expectations. It was so pleasurable, that he began to think of how the rest of her body would taste and feel. He knew though they would most enjoy the party if left wanting more, so he parted his lips from hers and quietly said, “I really could grow accustom to that.”

Willa nodded her agreement and smiled. Her color was brilliant and rosy, flush with contentment.

“Merlin, you are beautiful.” Septimus blurted out. It was not a prepared thought, and he found himself now fully committed to the prospect that this relationship should progress to actual marriage.

“I believe the Muggle phrase is ‘My God’ not ‘Merlin’.” Willa said, back in her capacities after their kiss.

Septimus laughed and stepped backwards so they could better look at each other before he said, “Before we go down, you need to understand that these aristocrats are fugitives I am hiding in my home. After the _Hôtel de Saint-Just_ was destroyed last month, we moved everyone here using an Extension charm on the downstairs to accommodate them.”

“Have all these Muggles’ homes been destroyed as well?” Willa asked.

“Not all of them no, but they became unsafe to inhabit after King’s authority was removed in August when the Muggle rebels stormed the palace.” Septimus said. He then added quietly, “If the Muggle government calls to execute the king, it is probable that soon after all these people will die.”

“Can you not remove them from the country like with the others?” Willa asked.

Septimus gave a tight smile and said, “Vincent and I were moving them to the Austrian Netherlands.”

Willa nodded with understanding. The area was occupied now, no safer than here. The weight of tomorrow’s forum fell on her heavier than it had earlier with Artemisia.

“Vincent feels they should stay regardless and fight for their way of life. The Vendée region is littered with Royalists, led by his Muggle father.” Septimus sighed, clearly conflicted about the direction his friend wished to pursue. After a moment, his eyes became bright and very present as he said, “But that is not of importance tonight. Tonight is meant as a respite from the horrors outside. To give everyone a diversion that mimics life before this all began. I warn you, it may become a bit raucous.”

“So raucous the Jacobins will notice? Or worse, the _Anti-Moldus_?” she asked with concern.

“Oh no, my home is hidden from Muggles and the wizarding community alike under password protection by the Fidelius charm. A password to which only myself, Vincent and now you are privy.” He explained.

“ _Mouron rouge_.” Willa said, repeating the words he had whispered before they apparated. She lifted his right hand to examine the flower seal of his signet ring and translated the password into English, “Scarlet pimpernel.”

“Yes,” he smiled down at her and slowly laced his fingers through hers. “We really should join the party. Vincent can only entertain alone for so long before he does something magical.”

“Vincent is here?”

“Oh, yes, he lives here now that his Paris home was destroyed. Sorry, I did not explain that clearly enough before.” Septimus said then frowned, “Also I am realizing I lied to you earlier when I said that I would not share the existence of our relationship with anyone without your consent.”

“I surmised Vincent knew.” Willa laughed. “He was not very subtle at lunch.”

“No subtlety is far from his defining attribute.” Septimus laughed, then tugged Willa’s hand to pull her towards the room’s exit.

They entered a long, well-lit hallway that featured occasional dust-covered seating and side tables alongside other furniture covered in cloth to protect it from dust and light. The walls boasted many paintings, mostly landscapes, almost all depicting the countryside near Rouen and the Normandy coast.

“Nothing Gothic, I am afraid.” Septimus joked, noticing Willa take in the paintings.

“A relative of yours?” Willa asked, pointing to the first portrait they encountered. The man looked Medieval in dress and the painting’s artistic style, but had particular shades of blond hair and pale blue eyes quite familiar to her by now. The man in the painting regarded her with a curious look before turning to Septimus.

“Armand Malfoy,” Septimus replied and exchanged a polite nod with his ancestor. “He was part of the Norman invasion of England, friends with William I. The first Malfoy in England.”

“William I as in William the Conqueror? The first Norman king of England?” Willa clarified, recalling Septimus’ casual reference to his friend Prince George from one of his letters.

“Yes,” Septimus said, pulling her along before Armand could launch into a tedious monologue about the Battle of Hastings. “He gave Armand an estate in Wiltshire for his help. You may recognize it.”

He motioned to the next painting, which was of Malfoy Manor before the current wings had been added.

“So, your family is French, originally?”

“Yes, originally.”

“Your surname translates to _wrong allegiance_.” Willa thought out loud.

“Yes, and yours means _haggard in appearance_. Hardly accurate.” Septimus challenged with a sly smile.

“Gamp has no known meaning.” She protested.

“I did not mean that name. I meant the surname that actually matters to you.” He said, giving her hand a squeeze.

Willa smiled contentedly at his attention to detail and turned her eyes forward as they neared the end of the hall.

“So, to confirm, your family has remained close to the Muggle kings of England since 1066?” she said.

“And queens, yes,” Septimus laughed lightly. “As I said earlier this evening, where power resides—”

“So too a Malfoy.” Willa finished for him, pondering the implications anew if she were to become a Malfoy. If this were to become her life.

They reached the top of the stairwell and she looked at him, their bodies close together. Septimus leaned down to kiss her once, lingering a moment longer than wise before pulling his lips from hers. She stared into him hungrily, and he fought the urge to snatch her into his arms and carry her straight back to his bedroom.

“Sir Blakeney, shall we go downstairs?” she said in an official sounding voice. She cocked her head with a playful smile and he could not help but laugh with sudden mirth.

Finally composing himself he gave her a pursed lip grin, gripped her hand tighter, and said, “Lady Blakeney, we shall.”

As they descended the staircase, the noise from the party grew, a Protection charm blocked it from entering the second floor. She heard Vincent’s voice before she could see him, its veela-like quality melodic against the buzz of the Muggles. It took a few moments after they entered the drawing room for Vincent to take notice, as he was rather engrossed regaling a humorous tale about a troublesome horse from his childhood.

This gave Willa time to take in the scene, alive and rich with color. The women all wore gowns nearly as decadent as the one Septimus gave her, and the men were equally well coiffed. She got lost in the thrill of it all, this world she did not come from. Septimus’ voice brought her back to the moment.

“Yes, may I finally introduce my wife, Lady Marguerite.” He was saying in French.

Willa produced a dazzling smile on cue for the prying Muggle eyes and ignored Vincent’s amused expression. She then said in French, emphasizing her distinctly Creole accent, “A pleasure to finally meet everyone.”

“Ah, her ladyship is from the Americas?” one woman asked, clearly excited at the prospect.

“I am. New Orleans.” Willa smiled then looked to Septimus adding, “And I am parched.”

“Let us rectify that, my darling.” Septimus replied with an equally bright smile.

* * *

Countless cups of wine and games of cards later, one of the Muggle women, a duchess named Yvonne Henriette, leaned closer to Willa and pressed, “I hear in the Quarter of New Orleans there are many witches. Did you ever meet a witch there?”

Willa looked across the room to Septimus for instruction. He sat entertaining a baron on one of the larger couches too far away to have heard and merely smiled at her unwittingly before returning to his conversation.

“Yes, I have met several witches in New Orleans.” Willa said with a hushed tone. “At least, they claimed to possess magical powers through their religion. One can never be sure though.”

“Are you a doubter?” the duchess pressed.

“I have seen many things, but none to fully convince me.” Willa smiled. “One priestess did teach me some of her magic.”

“Parlor tricks?” the Muggle next to Yvonne pressed.

“More than that. Would you like to see?” Willa asked, excitement dancing in her eyes. She had never shown Muggles magic before, except in self-defense.

“Very much so!” the women both exclaimed.

“We will need to channel the spirits.” Willa said. A lie of course, but it would give an effect and mislead the Muggles from what actual magic looked like. She met Yvonne’s eyes and added, “Call everyone together.”

Yvonne summoned the group together, explaining that Lady Marguerite was to show them magic from New Orleans. Septimus and Vincent exchanged a nervous glance before both looking to Willa. She asked permission with her eyes and Septimus gave her a wink. Now relaxed, she stood and took command of the room.

“To perform this magic, we will need to channel the ancestral spirits.” Willa began in a hushed voice so the others would grow quiet. “Will everyone join hands and focus their attention towards those who are gone from flesh.”

The Muggles complied, and at her look alone, Septimus took Vincent’s hand to play along. The two wizards stood behind the large couch, apart from the group who had gathered on the central seating. Willa took in the semi-circle of Muggles, looking each in the eye before she held Yvonne’s and the baron’s hands to complete the circle. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, rolling her neck a few times for effect before she silently cast an Extinguishing spell to put out the candles. She opened her eyes to find the room lit only by firelight, its flickering flames casted eerie shadows on the walls.

Willa let go of the Muggles’ hands and cast out loud, “ _Serpensortia!_ ”

Vincent’s mouth fell open as her transfiguration spell caused a long black snake to slither from her hand. He had never seen such complex magic be performed without a wand, but when he looked to Septimus, he found his friend fixated on Willa with an entertained expression as if he knew already the power of the young witch.

The Muggles gasped and several screamed as the snake began to take full form. Willa heard its confusion and fear and began to speak to the snake in Parseltongue. Now Septimus stared, unaware that Willa spoke Parseltongue until this moment. The snake turned to her, relaxing as she soothed its nerves and encouraged it to climb up her arm and around her neck.

“She is possessed by the spirits!” one of the Muggles cried.

Willa looked to her sharply and said in French, “The witches of New Orleans say that snakes hold intuitive knowledge. They are revered.”

“This is true magic.” Yvonne declared, glaring at the Muggle woman who had cried out.

Willa met the snake’s eyes as it reached her shoulder and whispered in Parseltongue, “Goodbye,” before she cast, “ _Vipera Evanesco_.” The snake vanished as easily as it had appeared at her spell. A moment later the candles relit with her unspoken Fire-Making spell. A silent beat passed, then Yvonne led the group in applause.

Willa nodded at the Muggles, then went to Septimus saying softly, “Forgive me.”

He shook his head and smiled, “It was brilliant.” He kissed her lightly and added, “Though I did not realize you spoke Parseltongue.”

“Oh,” Willa smiled and said quietly. “Well, yes, I am an heiress to Salazar Slytherin.”

“Ah yes, you are a Gaunt. I should have realized.” He nodded.

“My mother cannot, so Gaunt blood does not guarantee the trait.” Willa shrugged.

Vincent moved closer to them and said with an easy laugh, “I do not think Duchess Yvonne Henriette will ever stop regaling this tale.”

“Yes, I hope she has the chance to do so.” Willa said quietly enough only the three of them could hear.

They said nothing for a moment, all sharing morbid expressions until finally Vincent said, “We should rejoin the party.”

Septimus remained close to Willa the rest of the evening, constantly touching her in some way until finally she could not stand to wait any longer and looked him in the eye to ask, “Might we retire upstairs?”

A delighted smile spread across his face. He stood to announce their retirement and thank everyone for their attendance that evening. The usual niceties followed and finally the couple escaped to the second floor.

Once inside Septimus’ bedroom, the wine and hormones flooded together in a feverish series of kisses. Willa relieved Septimus of his Muggle jacket and he quickly removed all the items he had put on her body earlier using both magic and his hands.

When Willa wore only her undergown, they slowed, pausing to breathe as they realized how fast everything had moved.

“I want to give you all of me.” Willa said softly, staring into his blue eyes with her own.

“I want the same, but not as Mrs. Blakeney. I want you as Mrs. Malfoy.” He said, which made Willa feel even more alive.

He kissed her softly then moved his lips over her earlobe and gave it a light tug with his teeth, causing Willa to feel a stab of pleasure in her groins she never had before. She moaned and he hovered his lips next to her ear and whispered, “There are, however, other ways in which I know how to transport you where you wish to go, if you would like?”

Willa ran her fingers up the back of his neck and caressed his cheek as she whispered, “Yes” into the air.

Septimus purred out the word “Perfect,” then kissed her neck fervently, moving down to her bosom and finally sliding the sleeves of her undergown off her shoulders to expose her breasts. He bent to kiss each of her nipples and then started to lick the flesh. Willa’s body coursed with fire and she could feel a wetness on her thighs. This was new territory for her and she smiled at how foreign it was and how good it felt. She wanted to touch Septimus’ hair. To run her fingers through it the way she daydreamed about. Her fingers tugged at the bow that tied it together, pulling loose the ribbon then dropping it to the floor. She raked her fingers into the now free strands as Septimus continued to suck on her breasts. The softness of his hair felt magnificent. She combed through its length again and again until finally Septimus stopped and smiled at her. He kissed her mouth and she stroked the back of his scalp, pushing his face deeper into her own. His tongue touched hers and she gripped him tight.

Their kissing grew fierce, impassioned. Septimus ran his hands into her still done up hair and began to methodically remove all the pins, carelessly dropping them to the floor as he went until her soft curls fell out. He pulled his mouth from hers and teased and smoothed her hair into its full length as she smiled at him. It cascaded down over her breasts and immediately he knew he wanted her naked. She apparently felt the same urge about him because she started to unbutton his vest. He cupped his hands around her breasts as she undid the buttons and then let her push the fabric over his shoulders and off of him. Her hands immediately went to his shirt hem and he took a deep breath as she pulled it up, knowing what she would find underneath.

Willa sought out his Slytherin crest tattoo as soon as the flesh was visible. Finding it, she rubbed her thumb over it before pulling his shirt all the way off. As she did, she saw Septimus had two prominent scars on his side and upper abdomen. They changed colors between a strange almost translucent white and bright blood red, as if uncertain how to heal. Their placement was such that if he were actually a Muggle, he would be dead. When she ran her fingers over one of them lightly, it was ice cold to the touch.

The rest of his skin was beautiful. Taut and smooth. His muscles were formed and solid, substantive not showy. A gold locket lay against his sternum between his strong pectoral muscles. She did not ask about it, assuming it held portraits of his children, whom she did not wish for either of them to think about right now. Instead she focused downward, at the base of his abdomen which cut into a defined ‘V’ shape, the Slytherin crest falling just outside the point. It was like an arrow to his crotch and she accepted the invitation, moving her hands to the flap on his Muggle trousers to reveal the buttons. She could feel him underneath, hard and solid.

Septimus gripped her wrist and smiled at her saying softly, “Not tonight.”

She pouted and palmed her hand against his hard-on. He laughed and pulled away her arm with ease, placing it around his neck before wrapping both his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She let out a surprised squeal that became laughter as he hurriedly carried her to his bed. His eyes were daring and sensual, and she felt her body pulse with blood at the sight of them.

He lay her on her back and continued on top of her, giving a playful thrust against her body with his clothed penis before pinning her hands to the mattress with his own. He held her under his weight while he kissed her mouth slowly. He traced over her soft face with the tip of his nose and found her ear again, giving it a light nibble that had caused her to moan earlier. It produced the same effect now so he bit her a little harder. Willa moaned louder and her hands tightened around his. He smiled to himself and imagined how she would sound once he brought her to orgasm. He became harder with the thought of it and started to kiss her neck through the curls of her hair. His penis now throbbed and he realized he would have to bring himself to orgasm once she left in the morning. It would not be the first time he did so while thinking of Willa, but now he knew every detail of how her gorgeous breasts looked and felt. He found them again with his lips and after he satisfied his craving for their feel, he released her hands so he could take off her undergown.

Septimus asked her if he could remove it before doing so, and Willa nodded hungrily. She wanted to be naked in front of him. For him to see all of her. To have all of her. She helped him remove the garment and then he knelt over her, looking at her. After a moment he smiled broadly and shook his head saying, “You are such perfection it will be hard to look at anything else again.”

Willa smiled and pulled on his legs so he would bend down to kiss her. She discovered his well-formed butt as he did, running her hands over it with pressure. Septimus gave her a sly smile before he kissed her. He did not linger long on her mouth though, as his lips moved down the flesh of her body towards her vagina. He detoured briefly to kiss her tattoo, nuzzling into it for a moment before continuing down. 

Once he reached his final destination, he kissed her labia gently a few times before standing to remove his locket and Muggle signet ring. After placing them on his bedside table he returned to precisely the place that he had left off and slid a finger inside of Willa. Her body was obliging and wet, so he slid one more finger into her and applied some pressure to the upper interior of her vagina. Willa let out a yelping gasp and Septimus grinned as he set to work forming a rhythm with his fingers.

Willa never had anything inside of her before. The pleasure was not describable. She thought nothing could feel better until Septimus licked her in a very specific place. She did not know the term for it, but it mattered not because Septimus knew quite enough about what to do with it. He continued pressing his tongue into this space and moving his fingers in and out of her. She tried to quiet her reactions to the pleasure as to not sound ridiculous, but that proved impossible to control as it only continued to build, every moment better than the last. She noticed Septimus responding to her noises though, increasing pressure or speed whenever she let forth a moan or gasp. She wanted him to enjoy himself so she relaxed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to continue reacting however the sudden stabs of pleasure encouraged her to.

Her hands found their way to his hair. Combing into it caused her abs to flex some as she leaned forward and a whole new feeling of warmth overcame her as this forced Septimus’ mouth and fingers into a different angle. She stayed there, digging into his scalp lightly and breathing hard as she worked to keep herself flexed in place. She wanted this new feeling with a desperate hunger.

Septimus did not let up pressure or effort, and after what seemed like hours to Willa’s burning abs and throbbing vagina, she felt a pointed change in the pleasure. Like a tingling heat coursing through her entire lower body, originating from the space where his tongue pressed and licked and spreading like Felix Felicitous through every nerve nearby that spot. It felt like Septimus’ fingers were engorging inside of her, but she realized her body was constricting around them, their new pressure causing shockwaves of pleasure and she let out what might have been a scream. It was difficult to know what she was doing in that moment. Septimus kept licking her until finally she became so sensitive to his touch she heard herself murmur, “Stop.”

He did, gently kissing her there a final time and pushing his chest up as he pulled his fingers out of her. His face and hand were damp with her fluids and he cast a Vanishing spell to dry them while he looked at her. She could feel how loose and ridiculous her smile must look but could not do anything to alter it. It was indeed like taking a draught of liquid luck the way she felt.

Septimus crawled up the bed to kiss her mouth. She pulled his half naked body flush with her naked one, the coldness of his scars searing into her like when snow caught in her undergown during a snowball fight at Ilvermorny. She gritted against the pain of it and pushed her tongue into his mouth. The kiss was heavy, his weight mostly on top of her and gravity doing its duty. Her arms remained wrapped around his torso tightly, gripping into his shoulder blades. Finally the icy pain from his scars became too much, as if it were more than just a temperature, but rather a darkness. She pulled her mouth from his, gasping for air, and released his body from her grip. He moved off of her, sliding comfortably beside her so their bodies still touched but his scars were away from her.

“What was that?” She asked, meaning the dark feeling from his scars.

“You had an orgasm.” Septimus replied, blushing as he realized that she clearly never had before. A pang of guilt hit him then. Had he crossed a line? Then he looked at her and realized the depth in her eyes. She had not meant the orgasm. “Oh,” he managed to say, his tone flatter than he intended.

“Never mind,” Willa said, smiling again but in a controlled way, unlike before when he had first finished her off. “I do not wish to know. Only to be here with you in this moment. Can we do that?”

“We can.” Septimus smiled, relief passing through him that he would not have to explain this to her right now. He kissed her lightly before stroking her body with his hand.

“That, well, all of it really, it was spectacular. Thank you.” Willa said, unsure exactly what to say about it. Septimus gave a pleased laugh, which made her relax.

“It was my pleasure, truly.” He said. His eyes were bright, fully engaged with her, and his skin glowed a honey color with the dwindling firelight.

“You are the most beautiful man.” Willa said without thinking about how it would sound.

Septimus stroked her cheekbone and replied, “You are the most beautiful woman.”

Willa kissed him then and it lasted awhile until Septimus finally stood to turn down the bed so they could sleep. He playfully tucked her in so she would not have to get up herself and then stoked the fire and added two more logs to last the night. Before climbing into bed next to Willa, he slid his locket back over his head, checking inside it briefly for an update. The portrait thankfully remained empty.

“Who is it?” Willa asked, watching him.

“It is of my father, Basilides Malfoy. An alarm system. If someone goes into the hidden wing of the Manor, he will come to this portrait to alert me.” Septimus explained as he slid under the covers beside her warm, still naked body.

“Does it happen often?” She asked. She recollected how straightforward it had been to find herself in that wing. All she had to do was climb the stairs.

“No. The wing is not visible to most people.” He said. “Only one time has it happened.”

“With me? What is the protection enchantment to hide it so well?” She asked and his eyes hardened a little.

“It is only visible to someone who has killed a family member.” He said quietly.

“That is how you knew.” Willa said with a finality in her quiet tone.

Septimus nodded.

Willa reached out to touch the locket. There was nothing special about it. Just metal. She ran her hand across his chest instead, tracing his smooth skin with her fingertips.

“I do not wish to sleep, for then I will have to wake and leave you.” She said softly.

Septimus smiled and covered her hand with his own, saying nothing. He felt the same.


	19. Stranglehold

Ciaran wailed with pain as another gunshot rang out. Willa froze in place, unable to help, unable to save her brother.

“Run! Willa, run!” he screamed to her.

Willa tried to run, to disapparate, to move, but it was as though an Immoblis charm was upon her. The No-Majs advanced on them, Opala in hand, a knife to her throat.

“Savage scum, watch your freak friends die.” The white man growled to her.

Another gunshot, this time directly to Ciaran’s head. Opala and Willa looked at one another rather than at their loved one’s missing brains.

“This is not your fault.” Opala said to Willa, her eyes penetrating.

A final gunshot went off, but Willa never heard it because the ball killed her before the sound could reach her ears.

She gasped awake, drenched in sweat. A hot hand shot out and around her neck. It was not choking her, just holding her in place. Instinctively, Willa clawed at the forearm, but she was not strong enough to remove it.

“Lila, stop. You have to stop.” Septimus growled at her.

_Lila?_ Willa’s brain was becoming fully alert now. She was in Septimus’ _hôtel particulier_ in Paris, in his bed. A slight headache formed from the prior evening’s wine.

Septimus moved over her, not releasing her neck. She looked up at him, his pale blue eyes bore into her, almost through her, as if he were not truly there. He dripped sweat onto her from his bare chest and she realized her chest too was bare.

“Septimus,” she whispered, her voice groggy and broken.

“You have to stop, Lila, or I will be forced to stop you.” He said, his voice sadder than before.

“Septimus, I am Willa.” Willa said.

He shook his head vehemently and tightened his grip on her neck. Willa wondered if she was still asleep and this another nightmare. If not, though, he was positioned to kill her.

She shimmied upwards to readjust the angle of her neck to better open her windpipe. It felt like Septimus was under some form of the Imperius Curse. She reached for his face and his grip relaxed some at her touch. Willa took a few breaths as she continued to caress Septimus’ face. Finally she said softly, “Septimus, look at me. I am Willa. Lila is not here.”

His eyes remained empty. She repeated herself a few times, pulling her fingers through his damp hair. Finally he blinked rapidly and looked at her with a terrified expression. He saw his hand was around her neck and immediately released her and pulled away.

“I am so sorry.” He murmured, his look still one of terror.

Willa breathed deeply a couple times. Tears streamed mutely from the corner of his eyes as he looked down at her.

“I am so sorry. You must need water.” He said moving to grab a half full glass from the nightstand as he continued in an upset voice, “It is not forgivable what I just did. Are you all right?”

“Septimus, stop. Septimus, it is all right.” Willa said, taking the water and drinking it all. She already had forgotten her own nightmare about Ciaran and Opala.

Septimus took a shaky breath as he watched her. Finally she placed the water glass on the nightstand by her side of the bed and pulled him back down to a lying position facing her and moved the covers over their bodies. She wiped the tears from his face and softly asked, “What happened?”

“It is complicated.” He said.

“Lila is not dead. I already puzzled that out.” Willa said.

Septimus furrowed his brow, “How?”

“You cannot stupefy a ghost.” Willa replied. She did not mention the disappearing skull and crossbones on the Tapestry of Heritage or the fact that he spoke about her in the present tense.

“She is not dead, you are correct. Alas, she is not alive either.” Septimus said, his eyes now fixed on the ceiling, too ashamed to meet Willa’s.

“How?” Willa asked.

Septimus sighed and eventually said, “I am such a fool.”

“Look at me,” Willa said. When he did she used legilimency to enter his mind while saying, “You are not a fool.”

He did not block her from his mind, and she soon learned the violence awaiting her inside surpassed her darker assumptions.

A chaotic memory unfolded from six years before. Septimus was at a full run through a village, several Muggles staring from their store fronts and stoops as he rushed by in full robes. He hopped the fence of a cemetery and passed through several anti-Muggle enchantments as he did, revealing the magical scene taking place within the graveyard. Willa attempted to search his mind for indicators where this location was, but Septimus’ memory was locked on the scene he ran towards.

“Stop! You have to stop, Lila!” he called, not slowing as he pulled his wand from his robes.

The red-haired woman laughed maliciously before looking at him with the same wild eyes she had in her portrait at age thirteen.

“Little Septimus, come to save the day.” Lila jeered.

“Septimus, help me.” Another woman cried. His focus snapped to her, a woman with sandy blonde curls, bent over a young girl with dark hair. He took in the rest of the scene before rushing to her.

Two boys about age ten hovered behind a massive tombstone. Willa recognized the symbol etched into the stone; it was the same one on the resurrection stone in Elnath’s ring. She also recognized the boys as Quintus and Braxton. They looked terrified.

“It will be all right. Stay there.” Septimus assured them and then cast a Shield charm on the tombstone.

He knelt beside the woman and touched the cheek of the young girl. It was ice cold. He felt for a pulse and found one faintly beating. Now that Willa saw her up close, she recognized her as the child version of Braxton’s sister, Bethany.

“What happened, Miranda?” Septimus asked the woman with blonde curls, who Willa pieced together was Braxton’s mother.

“I hexed the thing.” Lila laughed from behind them. “A squib must suffer before it dies. Especially one of your making.”

Septimus looked to Miranda, confused.

“She thinks you sired Bethany.” She explained, holding her child closer to her body to try and warm her.

Septimus glared at Lila and yelled, “We did not become friends with Miranda or the Bagshots until my father died. Bethany was already four then. I know you remember this!”

Lila hissed at him and then turned away. Septimus looked around again, a panic rising within him.

“Where is Octavia?” he sputtered. Miranda looked away, so he turned to Lila and demanded, “Where is our daughter?”

“Ask your whore.” Lila spat. Then she looked upwards and Septimus followed her gaze to find Octavia’s tiny body floating in the air. He scrambled to lower her safely to the wet grass and checked her vitals. She was writhing in pain, her screams muted by the Silencing charm.

“She was very loud.” Miranda said, her voice now cool and indifferent.

“Release her.” Septimus commanded, raising his wand to Miranda’s head. She spat at him.

“Which daughter of yours will you choose to save?” Lila asked, moving to Miranda’s side and running her fingers and wand through the woman’s curls as if to claim ownership of her.

“This is wrong, Lila. I have only two children—our children. You have to stop.” Septimus said, his wand hand still at the ready and his other hand coaxing Octavia as she continued to suffer under the Cruciatus Curse.

“I refuse to share you with any woman, my love.” Lila replied, her eyes becoming lucid for a brief moment.

“Remove the Imperius Curse from Miranda.” Septimus begged, realizing now the full scope of what his wife was doing. “The Bagshots are our friends, remember?”

“When you prove to me I am the only woman in your life, I will lift the curse.” Lila said, her eyes wicked again.

“You have to stop, Lila, or I will be forced to stop you.” Septimus said in sad voice, as if he already knew his fate.

“Prove to me. Kill them, my love.” Lila said with earnest.

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” Septimus cast to disarm her.

She let out a cackle, “Now what? The only way to lift the curse is to kill me. You never could. Think of the inquiries. The Killing Curse on your wand. Your own children as witnesses. What an untidy mess that would be. You could hardly just banish yourself.”

Lila circled his body closely on those final words, finally stopping directly in front him and kissing him on the mouth. He would not kiss her back.

“You see,” she whispered triumphantly, “You never loved me. You only ever loved yourself.”

Before Willa could process Lila’s actions, she had pulled a dagger from her robes and stabbed Septimus in the side exactly where one of his scars was located.

“Father!” Quintus yelled and tried to run to him, but the shield painfully stopped his progress. Braxton put his arms around Quintus and pulled him back to the ground. He held him tightly as the boy went into a panic attack.

Lila stabbed Septimus again, and he managed through gritted teeth, “Release her.”

“I keep aiming for your heart, my love, but I am remembering now you lack one.” Lila said as she pulled the dagger from his side and made to stab him again. Septimus caught her wrist and turned it until the bone snapped. He took possession of the dagger and threw it aside.

Lila looked at him now with fear, but he did not stop. His hand closed around her neck and he picked her up to move them away from the children. He pinned her against a grave marker and strangled her to death.

Willa heard the screams of Octavia and sobs of Bethany as the memory continued, which confirmed that Lila was indeed dead. Septimus released her neck and her body slid down against the grave marker, which Willa noticed read Godric Gryffindor. He collapsed beside her, struggling to pull a vial of essence of dittany from his robes as his fresh stab wounds continued to bleed out. After healing his wounds, he mustered the energy to hurry back to Octavia, who still writhed loudly in pain.

Miranda was confused and in a panic, having just emerged from the Imperius Curse.

“Miranda, listen to me.” Septimus said, softly.

“Septimus, what is happening?” she asked, moving close to him for comfort.

He took her hands and said, “You need to lift the Cruciatus Curse from Octavia.”

Her eyes widened and she trembled.

“It is all right. You were forced into it.” He said while shushing her to calm her.

Octavia’s screams grew more horrific and Miranda finally snapped to, hurriedly pulling her wand and removing the curse.

“Thank you. Bethany needs you.” Septimus said before he knelt down to Octavia to comfort her. He checked her for any permanent damage and found none. Relieved, he pulled out his wand and obliviated her so she would not have to remember the pain.

He then moved to the two boys to comfort them. He obliviated them as well and sent them to Braxton’s house saying, “Go inside and stay there. I will come for you when it is safe.”

Finally, he approached Miranda again. Tears streamed down her face as she held her seven-year-old daughter in her arms.

“She is ice cold.” She said to him.

“I know, but she will be all right. Let me see her.”

Miranda passed her daughter to him and he turned his wand on Miranda instead.

“I am so sorry we came into your life.” He said to her softly. “But I am going to fix that.”

“Septimus, please. Please, let me remember you.” She pleaded. Her hands reached for him in an intimate enough manner that Willa felt a twinge of jealousy.

“I wish I could.” He whispered to her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek before he cast, “ _Obliviate_.”

Willa could work out how much he took from her. That they had never been romantically intimate, but in fact half-siblings. That Septimus had protected the secret that Bethany was not sired from Braxton’s father. Willa pushed deeper into his mind for the father’s identity, but Septimus would not release it to her.

She pulled herself from his mind and found him peering at her expectantly.

“I understand if you never wish to see me again.” He whispered.

Willa said nothing, processing what she had seen. That he killed Lila in self-defense in order to save Octavia. That Miranda was the progeny of an affair between Basilides Malfoy and Mrs. Borgin, and thus Braxton was Septimus’ nephew. That Quintus and Braxton had been friends growing up, cousins, even, but now Braxton could not remember it.

Finally, she asked, “Where was that?”

“Godric’s Hollow. The children were staying with the Bagshots while Lila and I were in India.” He explained. “Lila bolted from me and I eventually tracked her down to there. Her magic blocked my apparation into the unplottable area.”

“How did Bethany die?” Willa asked, already knowing what Braxton thought happened.

“Miranda killed her with a hex.” Septimus said, clearly most upset by this.

“This does not make sense.” Willa protested.

“I know.” Septimus said. He looked at her and continued, “Lila was ill. She had a sickness that grew and impacted her mind.”

“A lunacy?” Willa clarified.

“That was what I thought, but lunacy would not be contagious. Somehow she inflicted this illness in Miranda and it grew over time in her, until she became so mad that she attempted to kill her entire family.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Braxton was able to save everyone except for Bethany. He could not heal her because she is not of magical blood.”

Willa nodded, already knowing this part of the story from Braxton. Then she asked, “Why would you send Miranda to Azkaban and not St. Mungo’s?”

“I sent her to St. Mungo’s.” Septimus said. “Then she killed multiple healers there. At that point it was out of my hands.”

“Why does Braxton not know this?”

“He does.” Septimus said softly. “I think it is easier for him to blame me than to face reality.”

“Do you have it, this illness?” Willa asked.

Septimus met her eyes and shook his head, “I do not know.”

“Perhaps it is not contagious, but Lila could influence Miranda still, once you...resurrected her?”

“It is possible. The scars from the stab wounds Lila gave me appeared only after I brought her back. So perhaps her ties to Miranda returned as well?” he said, clearly never having entertained this thought.

Willa stroked the scar Septimus’ abdomen, now understanding what it was from and why it made her fingertips cold.

“Septimus,” she said, barely audible.

“Willa?”

“I must tell you something.”

He shifted his body to his side to look at her again, his attention entirely engaged.

“Whenever I touch something belonging to Lila, like your scars or her tapestry portrait in the Slytherin common room, I can feel a coldness creeping into me. The sensation is strange though, more than cold, like a darkness as though…” Willa trailed off.

“As though you are being possessed.” Septimus finished for her, resigned. “It happens to me as well.”

“Like earlier?” Willa asked.

He nodded.

“I think that may be what actually happened to Miranda, rather than an illness.” Willa said. “Lila thought you and Miranda were intimate, so, maybe she was trying to punish you by harming her? Maybe she possessed Miranda somehow? How exactly did you bring Lila back?”

Septimus sighed then explained, “I made Corvinus Gaunt restore Lila using his resurrection stone thinking it would be short term, like in the tale. Surely the story was based on truth, right? But no. Lila did not desire to return to the realm of death. She escaped me, and I tracked her to the Bagshots, but only found Miranda in the garden of her home, after…”

Willa rubbed his chest soothingly and he continued, “Later that day, after Miranda killed the healers, Lila returned to me at the Manor and Corvinus helped me trap her within the confines of the wing you saw. He did not know how to force her back into the death realm though, or if it was even possible.”

“So, perhaps Lila was in possession of Miranda already when you arrived at the Bagshots and remained so until after killing the healers. That was why you did not see her when you tracked her to Miranda?” Willa suggested.

“This makes sense.” Septimus nodded, the missing link finally clicking into place after months of confusion. Willa was frowning though, so he asked, “What is it?”

“Lila can still take possession of you while being trapped?” Willa asked. “Like this morning?”

“It is not a full possession. I do not really understand it and none of my research has produced any answers.” Septimus frowned. “But, you saw that you could pull me out of it. This is only the second time it has happened. The last time I was alone; it was the morning after you were at the Manor for my ball. I thought it was a nightmare.”

“It feels as though she does not want us together.” Willa noted.

“She does not wish me any happiness. It has nothing to do with you.” He said.

Willa gave him a sly smile and said, “If I make you happy, then I believe it does have something to do with me.”

“Hm,” he said, finally smiling for the first time that morning. He pulled their bodies against one another, avoiding touching her directly with his scars, and murmured into the salty flesh on her neck, “You make me very happy.”

They lay in a silent embrace for several minutes before Septimus began to speak again, pulling away to look at her when he did.

“Willa,” he began softly. “There is something I need to tell you. Something I did not know how to explain in a letter.”

“What is it?” Willa replied calmly. She did not think anything he told her could be worse than the fact that he resurrected his insane dead wife and she was now indefinitely trapped in a hidden wing of his primary estate occasionally attempting to take possession of him.

“You wrote to me several letters ago about how you were starting to remember things more easily, memories of your father you had buried deep.” He began and she nodded. “I believe I know why this is, in fact, I think I am the reason this is happening.”

“What do you mean?” Willa asked with a slight edge to her voice.

“Ardan is quite gifted with the Imperius Curse and tended to use often, on wizards and Muggles alike. That is why Lila blamed her behavior on him putting her under the curse, because she thought it would be believable. So, when I banished Ardan, I set two barrier spells: the official banishment one, which makes it so the banished person must be permitted back into the country in order to pass over the border without dying, but also a second one that would undo any spells Ardan had cast on someone entering the country.” He explained. “My intention was to prevent him from sending people under the Imperius Curse to continue his work in Britain, but I think it has had another effect in your case.”

“You think he was controlling me under the curse in America?” Willa asked.

Septimus took a measured breath as he planned his next words, “Most people associate the curse with physical behavior, but it actually affects the mind. When mastered it can be used in a more intricate way than simply ‘you do this when I tell you to do it.’ It can cause you to behave differently emotionally. Feel the need to protect something at all costs, for example.”

He let the last thought linger and Willa knew exactly what he meant. She felt the need to protect the Gamp family name at all costs. She always had.

“But Elnath and Rigel feel the need to protect their family name, too.” She said. “And my Uncle Castor is not sophisticated enough to force them to do so through magic.”

Septimus chuckled at this comment, “He is not, I agree. But their name is all they have. Think about it, we do not call ourselves the Most Ancient and Noble House of Gamp or Malfoy, and my family name has been around longer than Black, if not in England. Power is a strange thing. You and I are so wealthy it does not matter, but the Blacks must promote their name like currency in order to maintain their power.”

“Then why would my father want me to protect the family name so desperately?” Willa asked.

“It is not the name he wants protected, it is himself. You have witnessed him do terrible and illegal things. The easiest way to prevent you from saying something about it would be convince you it was not in your best interest to do so. Even though, as you made clear in the embassy yesterday, he tortured you and your brother.”

“And my mother.” Willa said into the air after a long moment. “But it is worse than just that. He taught me how to torture them and he made me do it.”

_And he did not need to use the Imperius Curse to make me._ She thought with shame.

“I do not know what to say.” Septimus felt as though he had failed her and her entire family by allowing her father to live. It seemed an unforgiveable offence.

Willa stroked the side of his face soothingly and shook her head, “There is nothing to say. When you first told me it had been within your power to execute my father, I had to come to terms with it then. I had to come to terms with the fact that if we had never moved to America, I would not have murdered my brother. You told me this months ago, and I forgave you then.”

Septimus nodded and turned into her palm, kissing it a few times. Willa let out a strange laugh and he looked back at her.

“I have never said it out loud before. It actually felt good to say.” She said, her eyes were bright and intense. “I killed my brother. I killed Ciaran.”

It was like an immense pressure released from her chest the more she said it.

“I have never said it out loud either.” Septimus frowned. “Does it really help?”

Willa nodded but said, “You do not have to do it, if you do not want to.”

He shook his head, he wanted to try. Here in Willa’s arms, it felt safe to do so.

“I killed my wife.” He said, looking into her eyes. It did feel good to say, soothing even. “I killed Lila.”

Septimus let out a heavy breath and began to laugh, “Merlin’s beard, if I had known saying it out loud to someone would be this cathartic there would have been no need for the damn resurrection stone.”

Willa laughed with him and after a few moments they began to kiss. It felt different, freer. Both of them felt lighter, as if they had reached the top of a steep hill they had been climbing and could finally see out to the vast lands beyond.

Eventually their kissing transitioned into holding one another until Septimus remembered Willa had to be back in the embassy’s apartment before she was called on.

“You need to return to the embassy.” He said, trying to move away from her so they could get up and dressed. Willa clung to him though.

“Not yet,” she said and nuzzled against his chest.

He smiled and ran his fingers through her mess of hair and down her bare back. He kissed the top of her head and she looked up to him so he would kiss her lips. He gladly obliged. After several more minutes of kissing and smiles, he forced them upright in the bed.

“I do not wish to leave you.” Willa bemoaned.

“Society requires you do.” Septimus replied with a charming smile.

“You cannot look at me that way, whilst wearing no shirt, and expect me to part from you.” Willa protested. “It is cruel.”

“Everyone thinks I am cruel.” He grinned.

“No, not everyone. I do not.”

“You have to get dressed.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“No, I am going back to sleep after you leave. I have to chaperone a Hogwarts student to French court today, remember?” he teased.

“Kiss me again.” She challenged.

“Once you have dressed.” He said with finality.

Willa stared at him for a long moment before getting off the bed to locate her clothing. Septimus watched her body intently, memorizing every curve in the morning’s light. She was perfect.

Willa knew he was watching her, so she refrained from using magic and took her time to lift each item from the floor individually. She placed them all on the bed as she went, purposely avoiding any eye contact with Septimus. Finally every piece of Muggle clothing was laid out before him.

“Honestly I would only be in my night clothes.” Willa said, pulling the undergown from the large pile and sliding it over her head. “I suppose you should keep the gown. I have no need for it in my usual life.”

“Am I your unusual life then?” Septimus laughed.

She smiled at him in response.

“So, you are dressed now?” he asked.

“Yes, this is how I began the night, after all.”

Septimus stood and walked to her. They stood apart for a moment, recalling this would likely be their final moment alone for months.

“I know I should not tell you this now,” Septimus began.

“But?” she pressed and he laughed somewhat nervously.

“But I am love with you, Willa.” He said.

Willa felt light and ecstatic and said, “I feel the same way.”

His eyes crinkled with his smile of relief and she reached for his hands. He laced his fingers into hers and stepped closer to her. She swallowed and looked up at him. Their blue eyes stayed locked for a long moment before he leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back, parting his lips with her tongue because it felt right. He met her tongue with his own and moved his hands over her body with ferocity. She pressed her palms into his muscular back, avoiding the scar on his side as she memorized the feel of him. After a few minutes she pushed herself flush against him and could feel the thickness in his trousers. Septimus pulled away, tenderly biting her lower lip as he did and said, “You really must go.”

He led her to the dressing room fireplace and summoned her coat to her.

“I will see you soon.” He said and pointed to the Floo Powder on the mantelpiece, “Say ‘fourteen embassy.’”

Willa pushed up on the balls of her feet to kiss him again with a soft peck then took a pinch of Floo Powder. She memorized his naked torso and earnest face in the soft morning light once more and stepped into the fireplace.

“Fourteen embassy” she said and threw down the powder.

Seconds later she was in her apartment examining the room. The quill sat where she had left it on the desk, beside the sheet music she had been writing. Her bed remained made and her night clothes still packed in the trunk underneath the evening dress she wore to drinks in the salon. Nothing had changed, but she felt entirely different.

She beat the soot from her coat and walked to the vanity. She wanted to see her reflection, to see if she looked as different as she felt. Instead she noticed immediately the emerging pink marks on her neck, quite obviously in the shape of Septimus’ fingers. She knew the bruises would only deepen in color with time and nothing she packed had a high collar.

Willa cussed and pulled her wand from her coat pocket. She cast a Vanishing spell towards the bruise marks and her entire neck disappeared. Her reflection was startling without a neck and she quickly managed to make it reappear just as there was a knock on her door.

“Miss Gamp, it is Mrs. Lufkin. May I enter?” Mrs. Lufkin’s voice came through the closed door.

“One moment,” Willa called, now going into a full panic. She forced herself to take a deep breath and then remembered she had packed a scarf in case Paris was colder than Beauxbatons. She dug it out of her trunk and looked in the mirror while she wrapped it around her neck for coverage. It worked and she took another deep breath and opened the door. Artemisia was fully dressed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lufkin.” Willa smiled and then pretended to stifle a yawn.

“Oh, you are not dressed yet.” Mrs. Lufkin said. “Not to worry, we have time. I will meet you for breakfast at the embassy’s restaurant in twenty minutes. Will that be sufficient for you?”

Willa nodded and wrapped her coat tighter around her.

“Are you cold?” Mrs. Lufkin asked with a frown.

“Are you not? It is rather cold in my apartment. I need to relight the fire.” Willa said.

“Do you think you are sick?” Mrs. Lufkin asked, worried.

“No, I do not feel sick. I am sure once the fire is going again I will be fine.” Willa smiled with reassurance. “I will see you in twenty minutes.”

Mrs. Lufkin nodded and Willa practically shoved her out of the apartment as she hastily considered spells that might work to make the bruise marks go away. She had brought her Charms book to study for their weekly practicum and threw it open as she summoned her formal day robes from her trunk. She dressed herself first, then focused on the Charms book. Worst case scenario, she would wear the scarf to meet Septimus and he would be able to fix the problem before the forum began.

After four failed charms, she found one that would change the color of her skin. She had never done it before and it took about twenty tries to master it well enough. It was not perfect, but it worked well enough that she did not need the scarf.

Breakfast was uneventful and soon Mrs. Lufkin was leading her out the back entrance of the embassy into a large garden that served as a plaza connecting all the Ministère buildings and the International Confederation of Wizards headquarters, which was the massive edifice located closest to the embassy.

“The court is on the opposite end of the Jardin de Bonaccord.” Mrs. Lufkin explained as they walked down a diagonal pathway that led to the center of the garden. Willa assumed the garden was named for Pierre Bonaccord, the first Supreme Mugwump. As they passed a large circular fountain at the center plaza, Mrs. Lufkin pointed to the stunning three-story building behind it, “That is the main building of _le Ministère_.”

“How many buildings do they have?” Willa asked.

“Five, plus the Confederation headquarters.”

They continued along the beautiful central pathway, lined with colorful chrysanthemums, until reaching the court building. Its architecture reminded Willa of Gringotts and they had to climb stairs to enter the rotunda, built with pink and green marble floors and columns inside. The large rotunda had two hallways leading from it and one set of tall, gilded doors directly across from the entrance. Curved marble benches were built into the walls, which were panels cut between the marble columns. A steady stream of wizards wearing either royal blue or crimson robes entered from the hallway to the right and headed gradually for the gilded doors, pausing to greet each other as they went.

“That is where the Floo Network fireplaces are located.” Mrs. Lufkin explained.

Willa nodded, her throat tightening as the amount of people overwhelmed her. She realized she would be speaking in front of all of them shortly, and that her speech might impact thousands of people’s lives.

“Good morning,” Septimus’ voice came from behind them and a smile spread across Willa’s face. Her nerves calmed immediately as she turned to face him and found him smiling back at her.


	20. Obliviate

Septimus wore formal robes, black in color with a mostly hidden inner layer of royal blue that matched about a half of the French wizards’ court robes. Only when M. Droit approached their trio wearing crimson robes and a sense of importance did Willa realize the subtle messaging of allegiance in Septimus’ attire. She wondered if Artemisia noticed, if she understood truly how aligned she and Septimus were in France.

“Mademoiselle Gamp, what on earth are you doing here?” M. Droit asked her in French with a confused frown.

“She is here at our behest, M. Droit.” Mrs. Lufkin replied in French.

M. Droit eyed Mrs. Lufkin cautiously before saying, “You must be Artemisia Lufkin. They said you would be here to counteract _him_.”

Purcell eyed Septimus as he said ‘him’ and Artemisia followed his glance to find Septimus’ expression entirely unreadable. Beside him, Wilhelmina appeared the same blank canvas of polite indifference, so Artemisia quickly donned her own mask to match her fellow countrymen and replied, “Indeed, we are here together to represent both sides of the British Ministry.

M. Droit nodded, “And Mlle. Gamp? What role could she play that would be important enough to take her from her studies and preparations for the First Task?”

“You will soon learn, sir.” Willa said with a smile and curtsy. “Did you come to greet us or bring instruction, M. Droit? I felt it was the latter when you first approached.”

Septimus fought a laugh as Purcell shifted his stance uncomfortably to one of more authority. Clearly their choice to bring Willa was the right one.

“Ah yes, I did.” He said, his voice became official in tone. “I came to inform you that the foreign delegations are to wait in the portrait hall until their scheduled time. A page will collect you when it is your turn.”

“Thank you, sir.” Septimus said with a polite nod.

M. Droit nodded to them all, eyeing Willa with a still bewildered expression before turning with grandness towards the gilded doors and consequently into the pathway of the approaching M. Lestrange.

“Excuse me,” he said gruffly to M. Lestrange who merely smiled and glided around him to the British delegation.

“Mlle. Gamp, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” M. Lestrange beamed at her with a formal nod. Septimus moved a step closer to Willa, but M. Lestrange did not notice. He instead glanced back at M. Droit and continued to Willa, “I see your talent to draw in dangerous men flourishes.”

“You mean M. Droit?” Willa replied playfully with a formal curtsy. “Tell me, M. Lestrange, why do you find him dangerous?”

She expected him to ask her to call him Marcellus and hoped Septimus would not react, but instead M. Lestrange smiled the way Hélène did whenever she was about to share gossip.

“Yes, Purcell Droit is far too influential not to be dangerous.” M. Lestrange said and glanced at Septimus, who now stood almost too close to Willa to be discreet, his hand hovering near his wand. “Of course, M. Droit is hardly the only influential man here today. I must admit I knew of your presence in Paris already, Mlle. Gamp, as I heard you and Septimus had drinks last night at the embassy salon.”

Willa laughed easily at his tone’s implications and glanced at Septimus while she said with dripping sarcasm, “Oh yes, Mr. Malfoy and I stayed up for the evening’s entirety drinking firewhisky and discussing how best to influence France in our favor. Is that not true, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Indeed, firewhisky and France are all you and I need to entertain us, Miss Gamp.” Septimus grinned, relaxing as Marcellus laughed with them. Willa clearly held his favor, something which he had never been able to earn. In fact, this was the first time Marcellus had genuinely laughed at something he said.

“M. Lestrange, have you met Mrs. Artemisia Lufkin, Opposition Leader for the British Ministry? She is certainly someone you should know.” Willa said, motioning to Mrs. Lufkin who had been watching the interaction with a quiet curiosity.

“No, I have not.” He replied, moving towards her with grace and extending his hand. As M. Lestrange made his own introductions to Mrs. Lufkin, Vincent approached Septimus and Willa.

“Good morning,” he said softly to the couple, who nodded and curtsied in response.

“Are we all set?” Septimus asked in hushed English.

Vincent nodded. Seeing Artemisia remained occupied with Marcellus, he leaned down close to Willa’s ear and said in a melodic whisper, “ _Bonne courage_. You will do splendidly, Willa.”

Willa nodded a few times and her cheeks blushed as crimson as their opposition’s robes, the proximity of his veela blood causing her to momentarily lose her sense of reality. Then he was gone, his royal blue robes disappearing behind the gilded doors and Septimus’ hand on her arm to gently guide her to the portrait hall to wait for their turn.

“Are you all right? He tends to forget his own potency.” Septimus asked Willa softly once they were alone beside a large portrait of Pierre Bonaccord, who had served as a head judge of the French court before becoming the first Supreme Mugwump.

Willa nodded, but it was looking into Septimus’ eyes that truly grounded her. She felt a drop in her emotion as if coming down from a great excitement. She was overcome with new sense of empathy for Braxton who had been so callously rejected by Bastien.

“Does the veela blood not affect you?” she asked Septimus.

“It does, but I am not inclined towards men, so it does not with Vincent.” He said and Willa nodded.

She suddenly remembered her neck bruises and looked to see if Mrs. Lufkin approached, but she remained in the rotunda laughing with M. Lestrange. She hurriedly explained them to Septimus and that she had used a modified Colovaria charm to recolor them to match her skin.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered with a pained expression.

“Do not think on it. There is no time for that.” Willa whispered hastily. “Is the charm intact?”

Septimus examined her delicate neck and nodded, “You look perfect.”

They smiled at each other more intimately than they should have in public, which forced both to now fight the urge to kiss the other. This silent struggle was interrupted by Artemisia’s approach, and Septimus spun to face his colleague with some alarm as she asked, “How old is Vincent?”

“Late twenties, twenty-eight, I believe. Why do you ask?”

“I wondered.” Artemisia said with a pointed look at Willa whom she had seen wearing a dazed smile only a moment before.

Willa decided to sit on a nearby bench, letting Septimus handle the situation while she continued to recover from the emotional drop-off the veela high from Vincent left in its wake.

It took Septimus a moment to figure out Artemisia was implying Willa and Vincent were perhaps romantically inclined, as the idea was one he never had entertained. Once he pieced together how Vincent’s whispered comments to Willa and her recent look of adoration must appear to Artemisia, he let out a laugh.

“Oh, no, his grandmother is veela. I thought you knew.” Septimus explained.

“Ah, well, that is certainly good to understand.” Artemisia said with a blush and Septimus assumed she had been affected by Vincent on prior occasions without knowing why.

Shortly after, a young male page in lilac robes came to collect the Austrians.

“That is one of Vincent’s main informants.” Septimus whispered in English first to Artemisia then to Willa as he sat beside her on the bench.

An hour later, after the Hungarians could be seen exiting the rotunda with angry expressions, the same page came to collect the British representatives. He led them into the rotunda and once they were well enough alone, the page explained in hushed voice, “So far the statements have been entirely about the foreign countries’ safety and impact from the French. It is beginning to swirl up nationalism particularly in the crimson robes.”

Septimus let out a sigh and exchanged a worried look with Artemisia, but Willa nodded enthusiastically and asked the page, “Would you say the blue robes have any nostalgia or sense of national pride at the moment as well?”

“Oh yes,” the page said to her with a furrowed brow. “I think the entire courtroom longs for pre-revolutionary France, mademoiselle.”

Willa nodded and muttered in English to no one, “Too bad for them.”

“Mademoiselle?” he asked.

“Nothing, I am ready to proceed. Please have la Ministre introduce me as the speaker, not Mr. Malfoy.” Willa said, now speaking again in French.

“Mlle. Wilhelmina Gamp of Ireland, correct?” the page said, having been prepped by Vincent for this change.

“Yes,” Willa said.

The page nodded and opened the gilded doors to lead them inside. The court room was a tall, cavernous hall paneled in wood to absorb the echoes of chatter. Ironically, it felt like a superior version of the Muggle National Convention Mrs. Lufkin had taken her to yesterday. Willa examined the ceiling’s architecture and realized the acoustics allowed anything spoken from the speaker’s stand to be heard throughout the room without the speaker having to shout. It was well designed.

The page motioned for them to sit in the vacated bench on one side of the courtroom then walked to Ministre Lavoie and whispered in her ear. She stood from her enormous gilded chair, a throne by most standards, and her vivid purple robes fell into place as she said crisply in French, “I now invite Mlle. Wilhelmina Gamp of Ireland to the stand to give the statement for the British Ministry of Magic.”

If a reaction was the desired goal of Septimus and Artemisia, they immediately achieved it. The courtroom burst into shocked gasps and hurried whispers. The words “Malfoy” and “Gamp” could be heard repeatedly as Willa walked to the stand in the center of the room.

She climbed the wooden stairs of the platform and looked first at Ministre Lavoie to say, “Thank you, Ministre,” emphasizing her Creole accent for effect.

She waited for the subsequent murmurs about her accent to die out, looking throughout the entire courtroom and taking a deep breath before she smiled and began.

“Why would Britain send a seventeen-year-old to speak on their behalf? I am certain you are all asking it, probably Marcellus Lestrange has already scribbled it down as a possible lead to his story for _Le Sorcier_.” She met M. Lestrange’s caught-red-handed expression with a playful grin, which won her a chuckle from the crowd. She refocused, looking into the eyes of the individuals throughout the room as if to memorize their faces while she continued her speech, “The answer is simple: I know more than they do about this topic. Britain still has a monarchy, after all, while America does not. The most qualified country to speak on the matter at hand was not invited, so their former colonizers invited me instead.”

She paused to glance at Septimus and Mrs. Lufkin for effect; to identify them as colonizers in the story she was to weave. Both of their faces were engaged, and Mrs. Lufkin looked somewhat impressed, which Willa hoped she would learn to mask quickly.

“As you can tell from my accent, I have lived in the Americas. My father, Ardan Gamp, moved us there from Dublin when I was only eight years old to become a Scourer Hunter in this bright new world. Only when we arrived did we learn the harsh truth about life in the Americas. The order of law and of decency so commonly expected in Europe was not to be found there. At least not among the newcomers. The natives of those lands have their own sense of order, of decency. They follow what they know to be right. In their tribes, Magic and No-Maj live side-by-side in harmony. An idea that MACUSA sought to stomp out after 1692 and strengthened their stance against two years ago with Rappaport’s Law. I do not consider the Americas to be a bright new world, but rather one of immense darkness.

The Muggles claim Africa to be full of savages and heathens, but we of magical blood are wiser. We know Africa is full of light and knowledge and power. We revere the highly sophisticated witches and wizards of that continent. It is no surprise to learn that the Africans of magical blood forced to the Americas by European Muggles rejected not only enslavement by Muggles, but enslavement by the International Statute of Secrecy. For this idea was rejected by the majority of magical Africa itself. Those who found themselves in Louisiana were able to thrive. They built their own communities, maroons hidden from MACUSA with ease as that territory falls to French ownership, not that of the United States, as I am sure you all are quite aware. The most success and wealth among the magical communities in the Americas resides in New Orleans, the beautiful city that taught me not only the French language but also how peaceful the world can be. It is not a surprise as to why this city flourished so grandly, for the combining of all humanity always provides more success than its division.”

Willa paused here to read the crowd. She accidentally found Vincent among a group of royal blue robes and he gave her an encouraging wink. She took a deep breath, cocked her head towards the largest section of crimson robed persons, and started again.

“So why do I consider the Americas to be a world shrouded in darkness? It is because of the gross amount death that prevails there. The No-Majs have their own folklores about thestrals, for everyone in America has witnessed death.” She let out a laugh before she said, “When I first arrived at Hogwarts, a professor there thought my witness of my brother’s death was the reason I could see thestrals. The shock it causes when people learn I have seen death regularly since I was eight years old. Death resides in every part of America. The revolution is hardly completed there, despite ending officially more than nine years ago. When people want lasting political and social change, the fight is never over. This is something I learned quickly as our ship arrived only two months before the war’s official end. Their revolution lasted eight and a half years officially, and yet I was caught in a massacre the night my brother died, some seven years after the revolution ended.

My father sent me back to Europe to be safe from the violence there. From the death that permeates those lands. Yet, I have ended up here in Paris, where a revolution rages on outside these magical barriers. Where death visits your city each day to claim more souls. So, I must ask, if this is what the Muggles’ worlds are coming to, why do we sit by idly? Why do we not act? Why do we offer no help in the matter? Why are we clinging to a century-old decree passed by scared, dusty old wizards when change has already happened—when female leadership sits in power both here and in MACUSA?! If I at seventeen am the future, then I demand to know why the present refuses to act in the face of so much death here upon your doorsteps. Is it pride? Is it fear? Is it indifference?

I witnessed this before in America when I was too young to act, and I can still see the faces of the dead every night before I fall asleep. Inaction is not a mistake I will make again, and I hope the court will do the right thing and follow in this sentiment. For if you fail to act now, this country you hold so dear may cease to exist in any form you recognize. I thank you all for your attention and your time.” Willa finished with a nod to each section of the court, concluding with one towards the moved looking Violette Lavoie as she said, “Ministre.”

As the court erupted equally in fervent applause and angry dissent to Willa’s impassioned speech, Artemisia and Septimus shared a triumphant smile.

“Well, you certainly held your end of the deal.” Artemisia said to him. She leaned in to add, “Dare I ask what you did to get her to our side? She did not seem this affected from seeing the National Convention.”

“Nothing at all,” Septimus said, glancing at Willa as he continued, “When she came to me, she was already on our side. You had convinced her.”

“I want her when she graduates. Am I going to have to fight you?” Artemisia pressed.

“No. I have obligated myself to her cousin, Mr. Rigel Black.” Septimus said.

As the crowd continued loudly, Artemisia watched while Wilhelmina stood unaffected, poised almost regally, as if permitting her subjects to express themselves.

“She commands the room so well, it is easy to forget Miss Gamp is only seventeen.” She mused.

“Yes, I often forget this myself.” Septimus admitted with a smile to himself. He shifted the subject back to politics, “But look at us, working together. Who was it that said the Majority and Opposition cannot work together?”

“I am forced to rescind that comment, I suppose.” Artemisia laughed. “Though, I do not think either of us will be crossing the floor any time soon.”

“I am serious though.” Septimus began in a serious tone, looking Artemisia in the eye. “You should take her as your protégé. You will need her to win the next election.”

“Here I was thinking I would be running against you.” She said.

“Oh, never say never, Artemisia.” He teased.

“ _Silence dans l'Assemblée!_ ” Ministre Lavoie’s voice sounded through the courtroom by use of the Sonorous charm. The crowd quieted and Ministre Lavoie looked to Wilhelmina, who still stood in the center of the room, “Mlle. Gamp, do you have anything further to add to your statement?”

“No, Ministre.” Willa responded.

“Very well, we thank you for—” Ministre Lavoie started.

“She has given no testimony to the Muggle’s murder of M. Ciaran Gamp despite referencing it several times!” an elderly man in crimson robes protested from the crowd.

“You would ask this young woman to relive her greatest tragedy? Have you no compassion, sir?” Vincent cried out.

“Is that not why she was brought here? For her insights on the various effects of Rappaport’s Law?” a woman in crimson robes inserted.

Willa hurriedly cast occlumency over her mind as half the crowd began to cry for the testimony of her brother’s death and the other half defended her right to silence.

The debate spun into international politics with a young man in a crimson robe crying out, “Her testimony holds no merit regardless. She is a mouthpiece for Septimus Malfoy!”

“You fool! No Gamp would bear allegiance to a Malfoy! They are noble Irish blood and would never bind themselves to such an ancient and cruel English bloodline.” A blue robe growled in protest.

No amount of “ _Silence!_ ” from Ministre Lavoie was stopping the fervor of the courtroom.

“We have to get her out of here.” Septimus said to Artemisia, already on his feet at full pace.

Artemisia flanked him to the floor, well aware that testimony of Muggles killing a pureblood wizard child was not going to help their cause.

“You see, Malfoy comes for her now to silence her.” The same young man from before cried out. Willa realized he had been at the salon the night before and was part of the _Anti-Moldus_. She noticed M. Droit give a small smile at this comment.

Septimus and Artemisia arrived moments later to the floor, ready to usher her outside the courtroom to safety.

“ _Ça suffit!_ ” Willa yelled, aided by the Sonorous charm. The room fell entirely silent. Every eye was on her and she paused intentionally to further command their attention before she spoke.

“If you wish to know my testimony of my brother’s death, then you may find it in the court records at MACUSA. What confuses me is that you wish to know it at all. The single death of an underage wizard in another country, when there are multitudes of deaths happening just outside these enchanted walls.” She motioned towards the side of the courtroom closest to the exit into Muggle Paris. “Your Ministre invited me here to give a statement as to what I have witnessed in America. As I have said before, I witnessed ongoing tragedy. The Muggles began their revolution here three years ago; no matter how hard you try, you cannot avoid your involvement because you are already involved. You debate amongst each other as if we live in a separate world from the Muggles, as if some of you are not Muggle-born or do not have a Muggle parent or grandparent. As if you do not know any witch or wizard who is Muggle-born. But I have been to Beauxbatons. I have met your children and learned beside them, and I know there is not one among you who could possibly give such a claim.

The Muggles are angry and they are scared. By doing nothing, by sitting here debating on endless hours in the comforts of your magically protected halls, you condemn them to death. Each of you must ask yourselves then, regardless of blood and political status, can you condemn your own peers’ families to death? Can you bear that shame? Look to the persons beside you right now and ask yourself that question. I implore you, before it is too late.”

The only noise to be heard was the furious scribbling of quills on parchment by the reporters.

Willa looked directly at Ministre Lavoie, whose mouth was agape, and said succinctly, “Ministre, I now have nothing more to add. Thank you for the opportunity to give my statement to the court.”

Willa curtsied once as appropriate and exited the center stand. Septimus and Artemisia were quick to her side, leading her from the courtroom wordlessly.

Once outside the gilded doors, Willa turned to Septimus speaking in English again, “I am sorry they were saying such cruel things about you and your family. I know they are unfounded.”

“Do not think on it, I have heard far worse. It is your wellbeing that concerns me. Are you all right?” Septimus said.

“I think so.” Willa nodded, though she felt both upset and intoxicated with power.

Their hands met as he sought to comfort her, and she needed his comforting. Artemisia watched in silence, shocked at how pure Septimus’ eyes appeared. Never had she seen him look so honest before, so genuinely concerned for another’s welfare. She looked to Wilhelmina, who appeared completely calm, and she dare say safe, under Septimus’ gaze. It finally dawned on Artemisia that the two might be intimate. That Willa never identified her suitor yesterday not out of modesty, but because he was present all along, seducing her with expensive jewelry and unchaperoned drinks. If it were true, she would have to disclose it to Ardan and Dipsas.

“Miss Gamp,” Artemisia said. The pair immediately separated from one another, confirming her suspicion of their intimacy. She continued as if she noticed nothing, “I really should return you to Beauxbatons. Mr. Malfoy and I have kept you from your peers for too long.”

“I can escort her back to the school.” Septimus offered.

“No, I really think I should.” Artemisia said pointedly to him.

“It really is not a problem.” Septimus pressed.

“I am certain Minister Osbert will want a report from today’s events directly from his chief advisor.” She pointed out.

All three of them knew this was not the case however, and Willa recognized that they had been discovered and determined to rectify this error.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Willa said in a calm tone, her eyes fixed on Mrs. Lufkin. “Is anyone watching us?”

Septimus looked around the empty rotunda and reported back, “No.”

He saw her produce her wand and point it directly at Artemisia’s head.

“ _Obliviate_.” Willa whispered.

“Willa, wait!” he said, but it was too late.

Willa took only Artemisia’s memories from after they walked outside of the court room. Artemisia went into a daze.

“ _Praeligo_ ,” Septimus incanted then said to Willa, “Why did you do that?”

“Help me guide her back to the court room exit. We only have a few minutes before she comes to. When she does, suggest that you return me to Beauxbatons so that you can visit Quintus.” Willa said impatiently.

Septimus obeyed, as it was in his best interest to do so, but asked, “Have you done this before?”

“I thought by now my breadth of experience would no longer shock you.” Willa said.

“How far back did you reach?” he asked.

“To our exit from the court room.” Willa said as they retraced their steps while supporting Artemisia. “Do you know how much she admires my father? I was not about to sit through a lecture for the entire four-hour trip back to Beauxbatons, then be subjected to our exposure to him. He will be angry enough when learns of what I said here today. If he finds out about us…well, you did not exactly banish him from France, now did you?”

“I suppose I should be thanking you.” Septimus said with a defeated sigh as they reached the closed gilded doors.

“It would not hurt.” Willa threw at him.

He smiled tightly back at her and said, “Thank you.”

Artemisia came to then and blinked a few times, asking, “Did I miss something?”

“What do you mean?” Willa asked with a feigned confusion.

“Nothing, I just…” she frowned, then without warning she pointed her wand at Willa and gave the spell, “ _Legilimens_!”

Septimus held his breath. Obliviating a British citizen was illegal, made more so by the fact she was a high-ranking government official. He was not certain Willa understood this and was less certain that she could withstand Artemisia’s power.

Willa stood there, nonplussed and waiting for Artemisia to finally shake her head and withdraw the spell.

“It seems I was mistaken. I apologize.” Artemisia said.

Willa smiled her forgiveness and Septimus let out his breath, thoroughly impressed with Willa’s depth of skill in occlumency. Even he had trouble blocking Artemisia at times.

“Shall we go for a coffee before I return Miss Gamp to Beauxbatons?” he asked Artemisia. “I meant to ask earlier if you minded that I take her, for I dearly wish to see my son. His letters make him out to be quite homesick and I think a visit will help him along.”

Artemisia nodded, still wary.

“Perhaps too a chocolate for you, Mrs. Lufkin? You seem to be feeling unwell, and that may help to restore you.” Willa added. “It always helps me feel better.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely.” Artemisia agreed. “Then I must be off for London. Mr. Lufkin no doubt will be pleased to see me returned earlier than expected.”

The three set off for Rue des Balais to find a café and Mrs. Lufkin launched into immense praise of Willa’s statements and presence in the courtroom.

* * *

Willa and Septimus’ carriage ride to Beauxbatons started out pleasant enough, as Vincent came to see them off during the court’s midday break, bringing with him a picnic lunch for their journey. He assured them Willa’s statements remained the most influential so far, then promised a later update and bid them farewell.

By the time they were thirty minutes clear of Paris though, Willa could feel the tension from Septimus, as if he had something to say, but would not bring it up. It reminded her of Elnath, but unlike with Elnath, she worried if she had offended Septimus somehow. She sighed and mustered the courage to ask him what was wrong.

“Are we going to talk about what you did to Artemisia?” Septimus replied, trying to keep his voice calm.

“What is there to discuss? She discovered us, and I handled it.” Willa shrugged, unsure why he was bothered by this. If anyone should be bothered, it was her with him for barely helping at all.

“Willa, you cannot just obliviate people when something goes wrong. It is illegal for a reason.” He said.

She stared at him to double check he was not joking. When she determined he was serious she laughed harshly and said, “Oh that is rich, coming from you.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“You obliviated an entire courtroom, or have you forgotten that you set my father—a mass murderer—free and back into the world to torture more people?” she spat.

“That situation was entirely different than this. I was doing my job.” Septimus cried. “What you did was illegal, not to mention wrong. Plus, I hoped Artemisia would take a liking to you. I think you two would work well together and she has plans to run for Minister of Magic in the next election. I suggested you for her campaign, but if she has any inkling of remembering that you obliviated her, forget it.”

“Is that all you even think of? Establishment of political power when the government flips?” Willa fired at him. She leaned in closer, her jaw set and eyes fierce, and hissed out, “I recall you promising me that I was not some political pawn or part of a plot, but if that is all I am to you then you really ought to take back your ring.”

“I do not want my ring back. I want you to see how your actions have consequences. And your actions today with Artemisia, well, frankly they frightened me.” Septimus said evenly.

“Frightened you?” Willa scoffed.

“Yes.” Septimus said tightly, biting back the thought of how Lila used to obliviate almost everyone she met. Sometimes for no reason. After all her manipulations, he truly had no idea what of his life he could no longer remember.

Willa’s eyes blazed into him like Bluebell flames, hot with anger, until a minute later when her face lost all expression and she turned away. He recalled that she had forgiven him already for not killing Ardan when he had the chance. That her anger now stemmed from something else, something deep set. He forgave her in that moment, for he understood the turmoil that burned within her better than he understood anything else.

They sat in a very long silence, Willa looking out the carriage window and Septimus watching her.

The French countryside rolled out beneath them, dotted with late autumn colors, and Willa calmed as she remembered the Muggles from the night prior. What Septimus was fighting to protect. That he trusted her enough to tell her about that, about killing and resurrecting Lila, about everything.

“I am sorry.” She said looking to him.

“As am I.” He said, meeting her eyes with a gentle kindness.

She then said quietly, “I fear that I will become my father and embody all he has taught me. That our tempers are too alike. That he is too much a part of me. That in my depths, I am not good.”

Septimus lifted her chin with his finger, looking into her eyes while he said, “With all you said in court today, in no form do you resemble your father. Besides, you cannot become him, for we can only ever be ourselves.”

“You truly believe that?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes.”

Septimus leaned in to kiss her then. She felt like the only true thing he could hold onto beyond Vincent and his children. She kissed him back in soft waves, parting and rejoining their lips like the sea meets the shore. He melted into it, letting the calming rush overcome him as the sun slipped into the carriage window frame. Its late autumn light illuminated his face and blond hair in a harvest gold and Willa pulled back to look at him.

Her auburn hair burned an orange gold with the sun behind it and she smiled at him in a peaceful way as she said, “You are so beautiful.”

He wanted to stay in this moment forever.


	21. A Kiss in the Music Hall

M. Lierre met Willa and Septimus’ carriage at the front entry of Beauxbatons, explaining everyone was at dinner as he unharnessed the winged horse to lead it to the water trough.

“Thank you, I will show Mr. Malfoy the way. He has come to visit his son.” Willa said with a formal nod, then walked with enough authority into the palace that the caretaker did not bother to argue.

Septimus let out an impressed noise as he took in the Entry Hall.

“Have you never been here?” Willa asked.

“No, never. This country makes so much more sense now.” He remarked and Willa laughed.

She turned left into the Music Hall at the intersection, and Septimus hurried to catch up after becoming distracted by the grandeur of the staircase in the main hallway. The Music Hall was dimly lit and a bit chilly. Septimus’ hand brushed against Willa’s and she slowed her pace, glancing at him. He smiled at her and then stopped walking.

“I forgot to tell you something.” He said quietly, then glanced up and down the hall.

“What?” Willa asked equally quiet, also looking around.

When she was sure they were alone, she looked back up into his eyes. He took her hand into his and moved one step closer to her.

“I love you.” Septimus said.

Willa flooded with joyous nerves. Unable to stop her smile, she said, “I love you, too.”

Septimus looked around again and then leaned down to kiss her tenderly on the lips. It felt scandalous out in the open like this, and Willa became terrified they would be caught. She dropped his hand and stepped backwards.

“We should get to the dining hall.” Septimus said, taking her cue with ease.

“I apologize, I just… it just…” Willa said, worried she offended him.

“I know. I understand our situation.” Septimus said softly with a warm smile. He began walking in the direction of the dining hall and added, “Even if I hate it.”

Willa smiled at this. She hated having to hide their relationship, too. There were too many factors though, what her father might do to her being the main one, but also Septimus’ children’s reactions, not to mention his credibility in both the British and French Ministries and now her need to appear independent of his political influence. While they were not technically doing anything wrong, it felt like no one else would see it that way. As if no one else would really understand their relationship. Probably no one ever would, she realized, since her core bond to Septimus was over trauma they could only speak about to each other.

They had reached the base of the Southeast Tower, the bottom floor of which was the house elves’ quarters and blocked off except for a narrow passageway around it to the dining hall. Willa led them down it, pausing at the doorway at the end. She turned to face Septimus and they smiled at each other intimately for a few moments. He stroked her side with his fingers a few passes, and then turned her back around.

“All right, Miss Gamp,” he said in his business voice. “Here we go.”

She pushed open the door and a wave of noise from the crowded room spilled onto them.

“I did not expect so many people.” Septimus said to her as they walked into the dining hall.

“Yes, they have nearly double the amount of students as Hogwarts.” Willa explained over the noise. Half the room was looking at them now, whispering and glancing at something on their tables. She ignored them while scanning the crowd for Quintus, then looked at Septimus and motioned with her head, “This way, sir.”

He smiled politely and followed her to his son, who sat beside Catherine Avery, the girl from the summer whose praises Quintus kept writing to him about. The one who had replaced Miss Black and who Headmaster Hayward had written him about Quintus having sex with on the flight to Beauxbatons. That had been an awkward letter to receive on many levels, partially due to the realization his son had been with more women than he himself had at that point.

Septimus was fairly certain Quintus had been similarly intimate with Miss Black on the most recent New Year’s Eve at his Manor. Miss Black had been there still when he had gone to bed around one in the morning, and Dobbins had reported her sneaking out before breakfast. He looked around for Willa’s cousin now, finding her several tables away happily kissing some boy. Clearly she had moved on as well.

“Father!” Quintus exclaimed as Septimus and Willa arrived at his table. “What a surprise!”

“Yes, someone from the Ministry had to escort Miss Gamp back here, and I thought, why not see my son?” Septimus laughed, as if it had been his idea and not Willa’s to circumvent Artemisia and give them more time alone.

Quintus looked between the two of them and then glanced at Catherine, who wore a highly amused expression for a split second before masking it and giving Mr. Malfoy a pleasant smile and nod.

“You remember Miss Avery, father?” Quintus said.

With a stab of panic, Willa remembered Catherine could feel her emotions—and Septimus’ emotions. She forced herself to think about something else, something entirely unrelated; Grogan punching Uncle Corvinus in the face was the first thing that came to mind.

“Yes, of course, how have you been, Miss Avery?” Septimus said easily, unaware of Willa’s silent panic.

While Catherine responded Quintus snuck an amused look at Willa. She produced a polite smile for him and started to excuse herself when she noticed _Le Sorcier de Paris_ on the table. A sketch of her and Septimus’ faces on the front page.

“What is that?” she asked, unwittingly switching to French.

“Oh,” Quintus said uncomfortably.

“Evening edition?” Septimus asked wryly, leaning over to pick up the newspaper.

“Father, do not read that here.” Quintus warned quietly.

“That bad, huh?” he smiled at his son.

“Well, they do like Wilhelmina, at least.” Quintus grinned.

“Oh?” Septimus raised his eyebrows, glancing at Willa in amusement.

“You know how France loves a Gamp.” Willa quipped quietly in English and Septimus fought every urge he had to kiss her. The two became so engrossed in their own private joke they did not notice that Quintus and Catherine looked between them with extremely curious expressions or that Headmistress Lestrange was approaching them.

“Septimus Malfoy, I did not realize you were returning Miss Gamp to us in lieu of Mme. Lufkin. I would have sent someone superior to the caretaker to greet you.” Headmistress Lestrange stated as she arrived at their group, which immediately snapped Septimus’ attention away from Willa.

He waved his hand and said breezily in French, “Not to worry. It was impromptu. A selfish impulse on my end to pay my son a visit.” He held up the newspaper and laughed, “I see your brother still hates me.”

“Hate is a such strong word, Septimus.” She said with her sneer of a smile, then reached for Willa without warning, snatching her by arm and continuing to him, “I hope you have not corrupted your Hogwarts Champion too much with your politics.”

The tables nearby fell to a hushed gasp at her actions and Quintus and Willa tensed up as Septimus reached immediately into his wand pocket. Catherine’s hand went to Quintus’ shoulder as if to keep him seated and Willa noticed Headmaster Hayward had stood from the faculty table to better observe the situation.

Willa met Septimus’ eye to assure him she was all right and he took his hand out of his wand pocket. He smiled back at Delphine with enough charm to diffuse the tension she had caused, and Willa and Quintus both relaxed.

“According to your brother, I have not.” Septimus said with a waggish shake of the newspaper.

“You seem to forget, Headmistress Lestrange, that the Coupe de Feu only chose Champions of strong moral fiber. Therefore I am incorruptible.” Willa smiled playfully, pulling her arm from the headmistress’ grip and giving a brief curtsy before saying, “If you will excuse me, madame, I wish to go find your niece and relay my own version of events in Paris.”

“But of course, Mlle. Gamp. On you go.” The headmistress said.

Willa looked to Septimus with another curtsy, and said, “Thank you for the opportunity, sir. It was most educational.”

He gave her a polite nod and tried not to watch her walk away. It was a tall order now that he could accurately picture her naked, but Delphine was asking him to sit for dinner with her and the other heads, so he forced his focus on her to say, “Thank you, but I am only here to see my son. I return to Paris tonight by carriage, so I am scarce on time.”

Willa arrived at her usual table, which was situated too far from Quintus to have observed the recent exchange between Septimus and Headmistress Lestrange. Braxton and Bertok were sat with the other Durmstrang students tonight, and Elnath moved closer to Patrice to make room for her. Once Willa had sat, she immediately said, “You look different.”

Hélène and Penelope took in Willa’s appearance as well while Xabi and Patrice politely paid attention.

“You do look different. Older.” Penelope said.

“Is it anything to do with this?” Hélène asked, holding up the evening edition of _Le Sorcier de Paris_.

Willa let go a massive smile and leaned in to say in a hushed tone, “No. I will relay it all later, but suffice it to say that I spent the evening with Percival.”

All three girls squealed and Patrice gave a mocking squeal as well, earning him a smack from Elnath. Willa glanced back at Septimus and found him heading towards the courtyard exit of the dining hall with Quintus, their heads bent in conversation. He looked back at her once they reached the door, meeting her eyes with a brief smile before he disappeared into the night with his son.

* * *

Once in the privacy of their dorm’s sitting room, Willa gave a play-by-play of her lunch with Septimus and Artemisia, invisible visit to the National Convention with Artemisia, business drinks with Septimus, and, of course, Percival’s secret party. She left out that it was for Muggles and that Vincent was there, and then finally culminated with, “Then we retired upstairs.”

When it appeared she would divulge nothing more, Hélène burst, “And then what?!”

“Well,” Willa blushed, Septimus’ naked torso and daring eyes flashing through her mind. “Then he pleasured me to orgasm. We kissed more and talked some, then we fell asleep in each other’s arms. In the morning he professed his love for me, and I told him I felt the same.”

Elnath grinned excitedly, happy her cousin finally had entered this world of intimacy she already knew. Penelope too gave a delighted applause. But Hélène needed more.

“How did he pleasure you to orgasm?” she pressed, brown eyes vivid, as if this were going to be the subject of her exams.

Willa explained the very basic details of what Septimus had done to her, and Hélène filled in the terminology she did not know. _Clitoris_ was the French word for the place on her body that Septimus knew to pleasure. Both she and Elnath repeated the word a couple times, wondering what it was in English.

“Did you reciprocate at all?” Hélène asked Willa.

“How so?” Willa asked.

“Oh, I mean with your mouth.” Hélène exchanged a bewildered glance with Penelope.

“No,” Willa said. “No, he did not allow for such an opportunity. He says he wants to be married before we do anything more.”

“How old is he? That is such an old-fashioned notion!” Hélène giggled.

“Old enough.” Willa said with a shrug and smile.

“What is his name again?”

“Percival Blakeney.” Willa said.

Hélène frowned, “I do not know this name.”

“You do not know every person, Hélène.” Penelope remarked.

“In France I do.” Hélène shook her head, then her eyes widened, “Is he a Muggle?”

“No, he is pureblood.” Willa said, unsure why she used the term in lieu of wizard.

“Come on, quit pestering her.” Penelope said looking between Willa and Elnath with some worry that Hélène was offending them. Elnath appeared not to even be paying attention however, which Penelope had noticed was fairly common for her, even around Patrice.

“I just want to know.” Hélène protested. She looked thoughtful a moment and then brightened, “But Percival Blakeney must be a false name!”

Willa turned white, worried Hélène would identify Septimus now as the options were limited as to who was a pureblood in Paris last night.

“I am right. I can see it on your face.” Hélène smiled triumphantly. “Who could it be?”

Willa put on her mask then, smiling at Hélène with mystery and playfully remarking, “You will never guess.”

Elnath was so lost in her own thoughts that she did not react to the fact Percival was a false name all this time. Hélène rustled the newspaper as she skimmed the article about Willa again.

“Let me see, who is mentioned… Willa and the British Ministry officials—” she looked up and asked, “It is not Septimus Malfoy, is it? Is this why he escorted you back?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Willa managed to shake her head convincingly enough that Hélène returned to the article.

“M. Droit, no his wife would kill him.” Hélène continued, then read the line, “‘A loud protest came from the Duc de Trefle-Picques, Vincent Saint-Just.’ Oh! Is it Vincent?”

Willa blushed at this, recalling her overpowering attraction to him that morning due to his veela blood.

“By Durendal’s blade!” Hélène exclaimed, now certain she had uncovered the identity. “But he is beautiful! How lucky you are.”

Willa laughed, “I thought his veela blood would offend you.”

“I have been known to make an exception.” Hélène grinned flirtatiously, giddy she had figured it out and that the truth was such a stunning man.

“It cannot be Vincent.” Penelope said in a bored tone. “Willa said he is a pureblood and M. Saint-Just is a half-blood, not to mention part veela.”

Hélène looked to Willa for verification. Willa gave her a wink, ironically similar to how Vincent had winked at her, and Hélène gave a disappointed pout.

“How do you reciprocate?” Elnath asked, seemingly from nowhere.

“What?” Penelope asked.

“Hélène said you can reciprocate orally. I want to know how.” Elnath clarified without any shame.

“Oh!” Penelope said and then smiled, “Well, Hélène is the best teacher. I learned from her.”

“Is this common? Will the French boys expect it?” Elnath asked, now blushing some.

“Oh, well,” Penelope shared a look with Hélène, as it was clear Elnath meant Patrice.

“No, not every French boy—or man.” Hélène gave Willa a pointed look as she added the word man. “It is, however, a nice way to demonstrate the depth of your affection, should that be appropriate.”

Elnath nodded and said, “Show me.”

So, Hélène did. She was a thorough teacher, both explaining and demonstrating each element best she could in the setting, and the Hogwarts girls paid close attention. Penelope offered a few additional ideas to help things along, explaining that the process could sometimes take a while, especially the more familiar you and the person became.

Once Elnath and Willa exhausted of their questions, Hélène had one for them.

“Is it safe to say the Hogwarts boys would not be familiar with this?” she asked.

Willa looked at Elnath, who had at least some experience with a Hogwarts boy. Elnath shook her head and then said, “Well perhaps Quintus Malfoy, since Catherine’s mother is French.”

“Quintus is not the Hogwarts boy concerning me.” Hélène gave them a mischievous smile.

Willa laughed, “What happened to Bertok?”

“Oh, he is attached to some girl back home. It is quite serious.” Hélène shrugged. “Besides, the more time I spent with him, the more I in turn spent with Braxton. They are rather close, those two.”

“How do you mean?” Penelope asked, her tone heavy with implications of romance.

“I thought you just said Bertok was quite serious with someone else?” Willa protested.

“He is, but, you never know what people are open to.” Hélène shrugged then looked at Penelope with questioning eyes. Penelope nodded, so Hélène continued, “For example, Penelope and I have been together since before she met Xabi. Their marriage will not change anything for us though.”

The two girls smiled at each other with a warmth of intimacy, which both Elnath and Willa had already come to witness by then, so this was hardly a revelation.

“But what about when they have children?” Elnath asked looking at Hélène. “Or you get married?”

They shrugged and Hélène said, “We will deal with that when it happens.”

Elnath shook her head vehemently and said, “No way could I share like that. Patrice better not think that I am comfortable with that.”

“I have known Patrice a long time and he has always been most loyal and never willing to share.” Penelope assured her.

“Good,” Elnath nodded.

“Is this type of arrangement not common in Britain?” Penelope asked.

“Not to my knowledge. Willa, would you agree?” Elnath said.

All three girls looked at Willa then, who found her mind racing suddenly through images of Hélène’s vivid eyes, Ciaran and Opala kissing, Braxton shirtless, Rigel and Clement being intimate, Grogan’s thoughts about Elnath’s skin, and finally Septimus. The light from today’s sunset making him glow honey gold. Utter perfection. She was unaware of how broadly she was smiling until Hélène took her hand and kissed it.

“Sorry, what?” Willa blushed.

“Were you thinking about Percival?” Hélène asked with a giggle.

“Um, yes.” Willa smiled sheepishly.

“She is so in love!” Hélène exclaimed with delight. “Look how adorable she is!”

Willa squeezed a pillow tight to her chest, smiling contentedly as she said, “I am. He told me he loves me. Did I say?”

All the girls laughed and Elnath rested her cheek on her cousin’s shoulder with a smile, “Yes, you told us that already.”

* * *

On Sunday, Willa received a letter from Rigel with unexpected news, specifically a clipping from _The Daily Prophet_. The first line of his letter told her to read the article before reading his letter, so she stuffed it away until the evening. She sat in her bedroom now, content to stare at the article’s less than appealing image of Septimus for a few minutes before she dug into it. His sketch from _Le Sorcier_ was one she kept tucked away with his letters to revisit at night. This sketch from the _Prophet_ however was a political cartoon and hardly a true likeness, featuring caricatures of Septimus, Minister Osbert, and Mrs. Lufkin. Even with Septimus’ features exaggerated, she still found him attractive. The article did not paint him attractively though, and it certainly did not paint her or Artemisia well either.

It was an opinionated essay written by Mr. Cecil Flint, Josephina’s father and the sitting Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Succinctly, his opinion was that women had no business in political matters and that Septimus’ antics in the French court of sending a student to speak on Britain’s behalf clearly demonstrated the failing leadership of Minister Osbert. “It is bad enough the minister cannot attend such important matters himself, but to entrust such things to a schoolgirl? It is a serious misjudgment on Septimus Malfoy’s end, and yet another sign he and the minister have lost touch with reality. At this rate, the Muggles need not even attack us, for all of wizarding Britain shall die from the embarrassment of having such a minister.”

Willa wondered what Octavia thought of this scathing review of her father, what with Josephina being her close friend. It would not be new criticism for Septimus, Willa knew, as most people accused Minister Osbert of being in his pocket. She highly doubted any criticism was new for Artemisia as no woman had been party leader before her. Still, Willa was not accustomed herself to such levels of criticism the article made about her. To be so publicly discussed regarding such an impactful topic felt both concerning and thrilling at once. She never had received such publicity in America, not even during Dorcus Twelvetrees’ trial or her own hearing about Ciaran’s murder.

She reopened Rigel’s letter to read his thoughts, starting where she had left off.

> As you can see, dear cousin, public opinion is not quite on your side here. I caution you strongly against further commentary on the situation in France. I realize the article seems hyperbolic, but the sentiment here in Britain is unsympathetic towards both Muggles and France. A shift in the social system has begun here, and I am surprised neither Mr. Malfoy or Mrs. Lufkin mentioned it to you. For if they had, I know you would not have acted so foolishly.
> 
> My parents were shocked to learn of your actions in Paris, as I am certain yours will be as well. This is a serious matter. The International Statute of Secrecy must remain intact. For the less we are exposed to the Muggles, the lower the chance of them attacking us as they have done before. As they continue to do in the Americas, attacks that your own father fights off.
> 
> My father has written Elnath on the matter, so do not be surprised if she brings it up to you again. I felt you might be more inclined to listen to me than to my father, which is why I convinced him to let me write you instead. Please write back with your word that you will not speak against Britain or the Statute of Secrecy again.
> 
> All my love and concern,
> 
> Rigel

Willa threw the letter down, incensed and disgusted. Who did Rigel think he was making comments on what she should or should not do? He was not here in France and he could not possibly know what was actually going on. And if he did know, then it was _he_ who should exercise caution, not _her_ , as he himself was in love with a boy who had a Muggle mother. Did he not understand what was truly at stake here? That if this fervor of republic was to spread to Muggle England it was his family that stood to lose everything, not hers or Septimus’ or even Artemisia’s. His family that disrespected the tenets of separation in the Statute of Secrecy, which he now asked to swear to uphold. The hypocrisy! And what did he even mean the social system was shifting?

She was pacing the room, shaking with anger, and finally paused to look out her bedroom window. Someone below knelt beside Flamel Fountain, almost like they were about to fall into the shallow basin. She squinted to better make out the figure and realized it was Braxton.

“What is he doing?” she murmured to herself as she determined investigating Braxton’s actions was preferable to revisiting Rigel’s letter or _The Daily Prophet_ article. She hastily put away the letter and pulled on her coat, then padded down the south hall and out to the garden terrace.

Braxton remained near the fountain, though not hovered over it like he had been before. His body language was tense, as though he heard her exit the palace but did not know it was her yet. Sure enough, as she continued down the steps to the fountain and more clearly into his vantage, Braxton visibly relaxed.

“Beautiful evening,” he said to her.

“Yes, it is.” Willa nodded as she approached him under the clear twilight sky. The nearly full moon’s light already illuminated them, even though the sun was not fully set.

“Did you come to beg me for more rehearsals or have we just happened upon each other?” Braxton grinned. She had asked him to be her companion for the First Task on the Thursday morning after she returned from Paris, and they had been practicing almost nonstop ever since.

“Truthfully, I saw you from my window and decided to come join you.” Willa replied, and Braxton eyed her cautiously. She moved closer to him and said softly, “What were you doing before? It almost looked like you were collecting water from the fountain.”

Braxton’s eyes flitted across her face several times before he determined to tell her the truth.

“I was.” He said. “I have been collecting a little bit every day since we arrived so it is less obvious.”

“Why?”

He took a deep breath and said, “For Bathilda.”

“I do not understand. You wish to give her good health?” Willa frowned.

“Yes, in a matter of speaking.” He said, clearly still anxious he would be caught.

“Brax, you can trust me. What is really going on?” she said, rubbing his arm soothingly.

“I worry she will die, like Bethany.” He said after a long moment. “Death seems to follow me.”

“This water will not protect her from death. Only the elixir of life or mastery of the hallows of death can grant one immortality.” Willa repeated Bertok’s words despite not having researched their merit at all.

“Yes, that is what Bertok said.” Braxton sighed. “I have to try though, and it is not as if I can access the elixir of life or have any clue as to where the third hallow is in the world.”

Willa swallowed, Braxton’s words confirming with certainty that Elnath’s ring from Uncle Corvinus was in fact the resurrection stone. That her cousin possessed the tool that brought back and entrapped Lila Malfoy. Looking at Braxton now, his face betrayed he wanted to bring back Bethany more than give Bathilda immortality. She sighed as she realized he had not moved forward in his grief as much as she thought.

Willa ran her hand down Braxton’s arm and into his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Come with me. There is something I need to show you.”

She tugged him towards the palace and Braxton followed her through the courtyard where several Beauxbatons students sat enjoying their Sunday evenings. Quite a few hushed one another and giggled at the sight of them, and Willa wondered if it was still about her recent publicity in _Le Sorcier_ or if they were interested in Braxton. This was clarified when they could overhear one girl say, “Braxton is so handsome,” and the male beside her reply, “I know, you have said that four times now.”

“Seems you have gained quite a few admirers here.” Willa remarked to Braxton in English.

“Huh?” he asked, and she looked pointedly at the girl who had just called him handsome. “Oh, yeah. I was not paying attention to them.”

Willa laughed at this, amused Braxton was so used to admirers he did not notice them now. Braxton tightened his grip on her hand, which was still entwined with his, glad she seemed pleased that he was only paying attention to her.

They entered the music hall, a very familiar room to them by now, and Braxton let go a playful groan.

“You promised we would not practice again tonight.” He protested as she led him to their usual piano in the most hidden part of the hall. She had chosen it when they had first begun rehearsals to avoid the spying eyes of Xabi’s supporters, which consisted of essentially the entire school.

“We are not. Sit down and close your eyes.” She said, dropping his hand and pointing to the right side of the piano bench.

Braxton sat, but grinned at her playfully to ask, “How will I see what you have to show me if my eyes are closed?”

“You will not need your eyes for this demonstration.” Willa said and slid beside him on the bench.

Once Braxton obliged and shut his eyes, she placed his fingers on the right keys for the accompaniment he would need to play.

“You realize my fingers are going to blister if I play more today?” He said, only half-joking.

“Hush,” Willa said in a tone that made him realize she was being serious. Braxton quieted into a more somber state and Willa continued, “I have cared for you a long time, Braxton. Longer than you might realize. Because of this, I want to tell you it is all right to still be sad about Bethany. I am still sad about Ciaran and he died more than a year before your sister did.”

Braxton said nothing, his breathing becoming more ragged as she spoke.

“I want to show you how much I understand the way you feel. To show you that you are not alone.” Willa said softly, pausing a moment before she placed her fingers on the keys to begin.

She let out a small breath and began to play the song Braxton had played when she first stumbled into the Room of Requirement. The song he had composed specifically in Bethany’s memory. The song she had helped him finish while invisible to his eye.

Braxton inhaled sharply as he recognized the notes, but he sat in silence with his eyes closed as Willa played out Bethany’s song. It had been Willa all along, he realized, never the Room of Requirement or some magic of the castle. When the time came, he played the accompaniment she had improvised with ease, having etched it permanently onto his heart.

When they finished the song, they both sat in silence to remain in the energy of it. Braxton opened his eyes and turned his body towards Willa to say thank you. She turned to face him as well and he smiled warmly at her.

“No one has ever understood me the way that you do, Willa.” He said softly.

Willa nodded with a warm smile in return and reached out to take his hand and comfort him. He moved his other hand to her face, tucking a stray hair behind her ear before leaning down to kiss her on the lips. Willa did not stop him, too shocked to think to do so.

As Braxton kissed her, her mind flooded with thoughts of Septimus having kissed her in this very hall not even a week ago. Of how she had worried they would be caught and felt scandalous to kiss him not behind closed doors. About the complex nature of their relationship and how it had to remain a secret for the foreseeable future. About how less complicated an attachment to Braxton would be. It was in that moment she realized he was still kissing her and pulled away.

“Braxton,” she began.

“Willa, I love you.” Braxton said in earnest to her.

Willa’s heart sank, worried this would be the end of their friendship.

“I love you too, but only like a brother.” She said calmly, resolutely. Then she added, “That is how you said you felt about me as well, remember?”

“I know. My feelings have changed since we arrived here.” He said equally calm, equally resolute as he continued, “And I believe that yours have, too.”

Willa wondered how strong Braxton’s heart actually was because she was certain she was about to break it. She had to though. She had to be honest about her feelings.

“Mine have not. I am in love with someone else.” She said.

Braxton nodded, but said, “Perhaps he would not mind though? You did just kiss me for quite a long time to now claim you have no inclinations towards me.”

It took a moment for Willa to figure out that Braxton was suggesting they enter into a second relationship while she continued in her attachment with Septimus, like how Penelope continued with Hélène after entering her relationship with Xabier. Once she pieced it together, Willa’s lips curved into a silly grin as she imagined Septimus’ face if she were to explain she was also now going to be attached to his nephew and was that not just peachy. The entire concept was beyond ludicrous and she had to fight her laughter quite determinedly as to not offend Braxton.

Finally, she composed herself enough to say, “No, I am certain he would mind. More to the point, I would mind. I am not interested in being with anyone but him.”

“Will he be there on Wednesday night?” Braxton asked.

“Now you sound like Hélène.” Willa challenged with pursed lips.

Braxton gave a coy smile and then said, “But you have not denied having feelings for me.”

Willa shook her head and said nothing. She closed the piano lid and stood.

Finally, she said, “Goodnight, Braxton.”

A smile spread across his face as she walked away. His father’s joking family motto ran through his head then: _Bagshot men are skilled in two things: Quidditch and patience with those we love._ Now that he felt certain that she did have feelings for him, he could wait for her to give Percival up.


	22. The First Task

Between classes and a letter from Septimus, Wednesday night arrived sooner than expected. Septimus’ letter confirmed he would attend the First Task and had submitted a rebuttal to Cecil Flint’s essay for publication in _The Daily Prophet_. Monday had thankfully shown Braxton still wished to remain friends with Willa and help her in the First Task. In fact, it seemed to Willa his kiss and her refusal had little impact on their dynamic.

Now they stood alongside the other Champions and their chosen companions in a tent erected in the gardens near Flamel Fountain. Around the fountain itself, stadium seating had been magically raised earlier that day to fit numbers even greater than the population of Beauxbatons.

“Paris was good practice to be in front of so many people.” Willa said to Braxton both to help calm her nerves, but also to keep him distracted from the pesky Bastien Saint-Claude who Xabi chose as his companion.

“I bet.” Braxton nodded then grimaced nervously, “Too bad I was not there for such practice.”

“You will be great.” She assured him with a squeeze of the hand before she leaned in to whisper, “Besides, everything is mostly set already.”

They shared a mischievous smile over their secret, which potentially could get Willa disqualified. It had been Willa’s idea to give her an edge over the competitors, and while it was not expressly permitted in the rules, it was not forbidden either. Headmaster Hayward assured Willa anything was allowed that was not forbidden and promised to defend her if it came to that. So, Willa had Braxton play nearly every portion of her arrangement’s orchestration on various instruments while she recorded them into her wand using a modification to the Memory charm she invented. During the performance itself, he would only need to play the solo parts, giving Willa better freedom with the fountain show. Now that she realized the audience was in the round rather than on one side, she was especially glad for her ingenuity.

M. Droit entered the tent then with the school heads and M. Lierre. He gathered the Champions around, giving Willa a wary look before he began.

“You will draw lots to determine the order and M. Lierre will fetch you when it is your time to go onstage. Your ten minutes will begin only once you start to play or begin the fountain show to give you time to orient once inside the stadium.” M. Droit explained.

He held out a hand with three sticks protruding from his grasp, all appearing even length.

“Shall we begin with the youngest?” he sneered, thrusting the sticks towards Willa. Clearly he shared more of Mr. Flint’s opinion about her speaking at the Forum than M. Lestrange’s. She chose a stick and waited for the others to choose. Hers was the middle length and Bertok was the shortest and would go last. Willa was glad Xabi was first since it meant Bastien would out of the tent sooner.

“Very well, good luck to you all.” M. Droit said and marched out the tent, M. Lierre in tow.

Headmaster Hayward approached Willa and Braxton to wish them luck and reassure them the stage was well organized. He exited with Headmistress Lestrange and Headmaster Kolvargson, leaving the six students alone again. It was only then Willa noticed she was the sole female. _Good practice for a political career,_ she thought dryly and wondered if Artemisia was in the crowd. The idea of working for her was growing on Willa. Though it would be easier to get Septimus alone if Mrs. Lufkin was not there.

The crowd, which had been a dull roar of noise, became quiet and then began to squeal with delight.

“The mooncalves must have arrived.” Xabi said to the others with a laugh.

A moment later M. Lierre reentered the tent to call for him and Bastien. The energy in the tent became noticeably more relaxed once the half-veela was gone.

“You guys all set for it?” Bertok asked Willa and Braxton in English. They had refrained from discussing the tournament all week, despite seeing Bertok every day.

“Yes, I believe so. And you?” Willa smiled, switching to English as well.

Bertok laughed and admitted, “No, not in the least. I have been dreading today for a week. I wish the challenge had been painting because that is something I actually know how to do.”

“You said nothing all week!” Braxton protested to his roommate.

“Tell the great musician and famous chaser, Braxton Bagshot, that I am woefully under-skilled in comparison? No thanks.” Bertok said playfully, causing Braxton to blush.

“Perhaps the Second Task will be for something you are very skilled in.” Willa said with a shrug.

“Like what?” Bertok asked.

“The Dark Arts?” Braxton suggested.

Bertok glanced at his Durmstrang companion and they both smiled secretively.

“Yes, perhaps.” Bertok said.

“Though Willa is skilled at them as well, so really it would be about defeating Xabi.” Braxton shrugged.

“You know the Dark Arts? I thought Hogwarts did not teach this?” Bertok’s companion asked her in broken English while Bertok scrutinized her reaction.

Willa shrugged and smiled, but the music from Xabi’s performance began so she did not have to answer as they all tuned in to listen. It was as Willa and Braxton had expected, a simplistic composition without much variation on instruments, and a heavy a focus on Bastien’s piano skillset. The crowd’s reaction at the finale was loud, which they also expected, but they did not seem overly impressed by any means. Everyone had heard Bastien play before, after all.

M. Lierre came back into the tent to collect Willa and Braxton. When they got to the entry tunnel of the makeshift stadium, M. Lierre said, “Wait here until you are announced, Mlle. Gamp.”

Willa nodded and the caretaker scampered away.

“You good?” She asked Braxton.

He flashed a grin, his competitive side from Quidditch taking over, and said, “Time to win this.”

A sonorous charm in use, what sounded like M. Lestrange announced, “Please welcome the Hogwarts Champion, Mlle. Wilhelmina Gamp, to perform her piece entitled ‘A Dance with Death.’”

Willa and Braxton smiled at each other with excitement and entered the stadium. The crowd cheered for them becoming slightly louder when they saw Braxton was with her.

“Wave to the crowd.” Willa told him and he obeyed. It was during this influx of delighted crowd noise that Willa found Septimus in the stands. His eyes glistened in the full moon’s light, locked on her and amused by her skill of working the crowd. Willa gave him a discreet nod and then turned to the fountain to find their piano and violin. Instead she found scores of mooncalves with their strangely bulbous heads raised towards the sky. Their massive round eyes blinked excitedly in the moonlight and most were dancing in an easy swaying motion while a select bunch moved in a complicated and synchronized manner.

“That is the most adorable thing I have ever seen.” Braxton exclaimed to her upon seeing the mooncalves himself.

“Yes, they are quite cute.” Willa laughed. “Come on, I bet the piano is on the opposite end by the gazebo.”

He nodded, his eyes still on the dancing mooncalves as they began their way around the fountain. They found their instruments on the other side and Willa sat to test the piano while Braxton tuned the violin. Satisfied, she stood and pulled out her wand then looked back to Braxton. He gave her a nod and she turned towards the fountain as he began to play the first notes on the violin. She made the water rise in small tendrils at each note until finally they formed the shape of a woman. At this point, she used her wand’s memory charm to bring in the five violins Braxton had played on Saturday. The crowd let out a collective gasp of delighted surprise and Willa smiled to herself.

She turned back to the fountain, using her left hand to control the water with elemental magic while her right hand controlled her wand. This brought out an unexpected gasp from the crowd as her ability to use wandless magic proved a shock to them. She focused harder, her mind now split between choreography and orchestration. Another figure emerged from the water, which she intended to represent Death. The reaction from the spectators proved she had done it justice.

Her fountain show was a politically charged tale in which the Muggle female character gave birth to a witch, then was taken by Death, leaving the witch orphaned and seeking vengeance on Death, ultimately succumbing to it at the end. The music accompanying it was playful, flirtatious even, a stark contrast to the grave nature of the themes. Perhaps everyone else would hate it, but she knew Septimus would love the entire thing.

As she and Braxton continued together, him moving between the piano and violin and her circling the fountain to ensure the figures could be seen correctly from every angle, the crowd became more and more entranced with the story. There were even some cries of horror when the mother figure died in a crescendo of brass and percussion. The mooncalves remained mild in their dancing throughout her performance, almost as if they knew not to detract from the fountain show.

Finally, Willa stood beside Braxton as he played the final melody on the solo violin and she pulled the figure of Death back into the fountain until it only appeared to be delicate tendrils of water occasionally slithering into the air. When they finished the stadium remained silent shy for the sniffles of some students. Willa looked at Braxton with a small triumphant smile and then led him in a lap around the fountain to bow and curtsy to each section of the crowd. At this they erupted into applause, the majority giving a standing ovation.

She stopped in front of the judges’ panel, Braxton’s hand sliding into hers as they awaited her scores. Septimus sat nearby the panel with the other visiting officials, one of whom Willa recognized from the Hungarian delegation at the Forum. She glanced at him to find his face beaming with excitement and pride. His look made her desperately want to kiss him.

“Now for Mlle. Gamp’s scores.” M. Lestrange announced, distracting Willa back to the competition. He announced them as they went up as sparks from each judge’s wand. Willa was most concerned with M. Droit’s bias against her, but he was the first to score and gave her an eight. Headmaster Hayward gave her a perfect ten, while Headmaster Kolvargson gave a six that earned him several boos. Finally Headmistress Lestrange gave her a nine.

“Mlle. Gamp now leads with a total score of thirty-three points, above Sr. Ibarra Zabala’s twenty-nine points.”

Willa waved to the crowd again and M. Lierre came out to lead her and Braxton to a second tent under the stadium, where Xabi and Bastien sat.

“Congratulations.” Xabi said to her as he stood to shake her hand.

“Thanks,” Willa breathed. “Though we have Bertok still to go.”

“I do not think he has anything prepared.” Xabi frowned.

“Well, Kolvargson will give him a ten no matter what.” Willa said and all of them laughed.

They only had a few minutes’ wait before Bertok began his music. He played an unremarkable composition and used only a trumpet and a drum. The choice of instruments made the melody even harder to follow and all four students in the tent exchanged pitying looks.

“Maybe his fountain show is strong?” Willa offered.

“I cannot believe Kolvargson did not help him more.” Xabi said.

“Maybe he did.” Bastien offered with a grin and they all laughed a little bit.

Thankfully the performance lasted well under the ten-minute maximum. A polite applause followed along with the loud hooting of the other Durmstrang students.

M. Lestrange made a polite commentary then went to the judges for their scores. M. Droit gave him a measly two, Headmaster Hayward and Headmistress Lestrange both gave pitying fours, and Headmaster Kolvargson could not even muster the courage to give a ten, so he gave Bertok a nine instead. This summed to a total of nineteen points and earned him another pitying clap from the audience.

M. Lierre reentered the tent to call Willa and Xabi back into the arena just as M. Lestrange announced the other two champions would join Bertok. As they emerged from the tunnel the crowd erupted into cheers.

“You must be used to this.” Willa joke to Xabi.

“You do not seem so uncomfortable yourself.” he laughed.

“Well, I did just beat you.” She grinned.

“For now you are in the lead.” Xabi challenged.

They reached Bertok, his companion already escorted to the tent by M. Lierre, and Willa positioned herself in the center of the two men.

“Mlle. Gamp is the winner of the First Task and leads the Triwizard Tournament with thirty-three points.” M. Lestrange announced and Willa waved to the crowd. He ran through the others’ scores then instructed the spectators to remain in their seats while the mooncalves completed their dance, which would last through the full moon’s apex.

The Champions returned to the tent where their School Heads waited for them. Willa gave Bertok’s arm a squeeze upon seeing Kolvgarson’s expression. That would not be a fun night. Headmaster Hayward came to her quickly, Braxton at his side, and applauded for her.

“Impressive work Miss Gamp.” He beamed. “I am only sad all of Hogwarts could not be privy to your performance.”

“It truly was beautiful, Mlle. Gamp.” Headmistress Lestrange said to her. “You possess a true gift for storytelling. You will make a fine politician.”

“Yes, it is no wonder the British Minister has demonstrated such an interest in you, Mlle. Gamp.” M. Lestrange said, having entered the tent moments before.

“Thank you all. You are very kind.” Willa said. “Let us not overlook M. Bagshot’s skills with so many instruments, however. For it was he who played each while I recorded it with a modified memory charm.”

“Ingenious!” Headmaster Hayward said, even though this was not news to him. He smiled at Braxton, “I am lucky to have such gifted students.”

“You were the one playing Quidditch who Hélène is so fond of?” M. Lestrange said to Braxton, appraising his physique before nodding with approval. “You are quite the young man.”

Braxton blushed under Marcellus’ scrutinizing charm and Willa had to recover for him stating, “Yes. M. Bagshot is gifted in many ways, including his discerning tastes for quality reporting. He admires _Le Sorcier_ and your work especially, M. Lestrange.”

This jarred Braxton into a floodgate of praise, which Marcellus drank up.

Headmistress Lestrange went to Xabi and Bastien to further praise them, and Willa saw Penelope was with Xabi. A pang of longing went through her, but it was short-lived as Septimus entered the tent a second later. His smile found her immediately and soon he was in front of her as her nerves fluttered with excitement.

“Such an inspirational performance, Miss Gamp.” He said at a volume meant not to call attention to himself.

“Thank you, sir.” Willa smiled back at him.

“We are lucky to have such a talented Champion. Are we not, sir?” Headmaster Hayward said, approaching Septimus.

Septimus smiled at the headmaster and Willa noticed Marcellus had repositioned himself and Braxton so he was facing her and Septimus, able to watch their interaction.

“Virgil, I do not doubt you have seen the recent essay by Cecil Flint.” Septimus said, clearly astute to M. Lestrange’s movements as well. Headmaster Hayward nodded and Septimus continued, “I need a word with Miss Gamp regarding it and my rebuttal. Some things cannot be entrusted to owls, as you know. Where might I find a private place to speak to her?”

“Is something wrong, sir?” Headmaster Hayward asked quietly.

Septimus glanced at Delphine then back to Virgil, wordless for a long moment before he said, “I have not removed my son from the country yet.”

Virgil nodded with relief and then suggested the gardens for privacy.

“Thank you, Virgil.” Septimus said then looked to Willa, “Miss Gamp, do you mind a private word? I have an update from Minister Osbert.”

“No, please, the gardens are this way, sir.” Willa replied formally, guiding him out of the tent.

They passed Braxton and M. Lestrange on their way out and Willa paused a moment to whisper to Braxton, “I will find you later to celebrate. Mr. Malfoy has political stuff to go over.”

Braxton nodded, eyeing Septimus with disdain as Willa walked away with him.

 

Septimus remained formal until they were beyond several hedge rows in the gardens near the woods that led all the way to the glacial lake. Then he relaxed, passionately complimenting her performance and stating how moving it had been for him. Willa looked at him with a blush, and he smiled into her, a pointed moment of unspoken connection before he led them deeper into the gardens.

Willa had heard Elnath gush about how romantic the gardens were to walk in, but it was only now under the full moon with Septimus that she truly understood their allure. The tall hedges became a way to hide yourselves in your own private world.

She ambled idly alongside him, winding around hedges to stumble upon hidden statues and flowerbeds until he stopped beside a bubbling water feature in an intimate circle of rose bushes. She had no real orientation as to where they were and looking around showed her they were entirely secluded and out of sight. Even the noise from the crowd was a low hum, further muted by the noise of the font beside them.

“I need your opinion on something.” Septimus said, turning towards her. “Before I show you, I should be clear this is for the girl Quintus is attached to, Catherine Avery. How well do you know her?”

“Not very well. Mostly that she is attached to Quintus. Her little sister was my Slytherin mentee before we came here.” Willa explained.

Septimus nodded and pulled something from his robe’s interior chest pocket. It was a small box. He opened it and gave it to Willa, casting lumos so she could see it clearly while he said, “Quintus is planning to propose to her. Do you think she will like this?”

Willa looked at the ring. It was a simple, but sturdy design. Something that would never work for her own hand or for Elnath’s delicate fingers. She nodded and handed it back to him, “Yes, I think it works for her. You seem to have a talent for designing jewelry for women.”

Septimus laughed, “Oh I only designed your ring. This I just picked out. Last week when I was here, Quintus said he did not want any energy to linger from his mother and to find him something entirely new.”

“I wonder if she would be able to sense the difference?” Willa said almost to herself.

“She? Miss Avery? What do you mean?”

“Oh, you do not know?” Willa said and Septimus gave her a blank look. “You really should know. Quintus should have told you. Catherine is an empath. So is her mother, come to think of it. That probably will matter for you as she will be his mother-in-law.”

“Will it not matter for you as well?” He asked in a low, tender voice as he looked into her deeply.

Willa’s heart pounded faster as she replied softly, “Yes, I suppose it will.”

Their lips met for a warm kiss, neither worried for their surroundings, entirely wrapped up in the idea of why it would matter to Willa as well, of their own future marriage and life together.

Eventually after they separated, Willa realized Septimus did not understand what she had been trying to tell him. “But Catherine can sense emotions in others. She can sense our emotions, Septimus, like the other night at dinner.”

“You think she knows about us?” He asked. “Has she acted any differently?”

“She has not, but it is her daily affliction to experience other people’s emotions. It is possible she has learned to mask it expertly by now. I am more concerned she has told your son.”

“He has said nothing about it. Not even a hint or off comment.” Septimus shook his head. “But I trust Quintus. I would not mind us telling him. I do not see it as a risk.”

Willa sighed. Eventually this conversation was bound to come up.

“I want to trust him, he is your son after all, but after the way he treated my cousin Elnath, it is difficult to do so.” She said.

“It is not uncommon for people their ages to change their minds about who interests them. Miss Black appears to have moved on herself quite fine.” Septimus frowned.

“It is his behavior before he moved on that alarms me. He was kissing both Elnath and Catherine upon returning to Hogwarts, as if he felt he could have both.” Willa said. She thought a moment and added, “I suppose here in France he could, if they did not mind.”

“France is more relaxed in that way.” Septimus nodded.

“Elnath would never agree to such a setup, and from my limited interactions with Catherine, I doubt she would either.” Willa said then sighed.

“I would not be interested in such a setup either, if that is what truly troubles you?”

Willa laughed, thinking of Braxton’s offer of exactly the opposite. She shook her head and smiled at Septimus, “No I did not wonder that about you.”

“Am I so predictably old fashioned?” he smirked.

“On the contrary, I think you are quite progressive.” Willa smiled, running her hand over his waist. “It is people like Mr. Flint and M. Droit who cling to the past.”

“Mm, yes they do.” Septimus agreed, covering her hand with his own and wrapping her arm around his torso to pull her closer to him.

“Beyond the rebuttal, how will you deal with Mr. Flint?”

“Strategically. He only yields power because Unctuous appointed him to the position of Chief Warlock. He lacks a base of followers. It is unlikely anyone will fight for him if he suddenly falls from grace.” Septimus said in a way that indicated he clearly had a long-term plan to deal with the man.

“Should I find you so attractive as you plot the downfall of a man who merely insulted us?” Willa smirked.

“Cecil Flint has earned whatever comes his way. He is unjust and forging an unhealthy pro-wizard sentiment in the courts. It is out of line.” Septimus said. “Besides, I am hardly a mastermind for plotting any downfalls. I think we both can agree Lila and Ardan outdid everyone on that front.”

Willa frowned, “Yes, except you should not use the past tense. My father is very much alive and capable of plotting. You speak of telling people about us, but until we are in the safety of Britain, I fear it is too great a risk.”

“I do not wish to fear Ardan Gamp. He is hardly a man.” Septimus bit out.

“You know he will hurt us.” Willa said with intensity. “He will make you listen to my screams until you cannot control yourself and you attack him. Then he will kill you and claim self-defense. And Cecil Flint will set him free.”

Septimus sighed with resignation, “You are right. We must wait until you are back in England to tell anyone about us.”

Willa relaxed and Septimus pulled her against his chest. After a silent moment he murmured, “Do you think Quintus will want to wed in the summer?”

“Most likely. Will he return to school?” Willa asked.

“Yes, he will have to. His O.W.L.s were too good not to finish. Besides, Miss Avery will be with him.”

“Can one take the N.E.W.T.s without attending for seventh year? Ilvermorny permitted this equivalent.”

“Yes, you could take your N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry if you felt prepared. You could sit for them once you are back in England this summer, if you wanted.” Septimus replied, recognizing the true reason she asked.

“What would I need for a career with the Ministry?” Willa asked.

“Whatever Mr. Black is taking.” Septimus said. “Though they will not permit you to work until you are eighteen.”

“I am certain I can find something to occupy me through October.” Willa mused.

“Oh, is that so?” Septimus teased.

“Yes, you have many assets to explore.” She smirked, then began to list all his homes and estates she knew about.

“You have forgotten Istanbul, Alexandria, St. Petersburg, Beijing, and Kyoto.” Septimus laughed.

Willa ran her hands down his back and said, “I do not doubt that I have omitted some of your assets.”

Septimus leaned down to kiss her and they soon were heatedly locked together, tongues in each other’s mouths and hands roaming about.

“Willa—what?!” Braxton’s voice interrupted their kiss.

The couple froze, separating only their mouths at the shock of Braxton’s presence. He stared at them, mouth agape, then spun on his heel to flee.

“Braxton, wait!” Willa called, disengaging her limbs from Septimus as panic overtook her.

“I should talk to him.” Septimus said.

“You? He hates you.” Willa protested.

“I can explain who I am.” He said in a calm tone.

“I promise that will only make it worse.” Willa said, thinking how Braxton would react if he knew she was in love with his uncle. She shook her head, “No, I will go to him. Stay here. I will find you when I am done.”

Septimus nodded and kissed Willa briefly before saying, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Willa said, squeezing his hand once before she hurried after Braxton.

She found him fairly easily, as he was rushing down a main pathway. She called to him, “Braxton, stop, you cannot tell anyone.”

Braxton stopped finally, spinning to face her with burning anger.

“That is what you have to say to me?” he spat.

“It is too dangerous.” Willa said evenly and cast praeligo.

“I told you—I warned you—that man is a monster. So, yes, that you are kissing him alone at midnight is too dangerous.” He sputtered.

“No, that is not what I mean.” Willa began, but Braxton had more to say.

“You really are something you know? Telling me that you only want to be with Percival and now I find you with another man. Am I that much of a joke to you?”

“What are you talking about? He _is_ Percival!” Willa screamed, gesticulating towards the direction where Braxton had discovered them.

“What?”

“It is a false name to protect his identity. To protect us.” Willa said.

“Does Quintus know? Is that why he rarely speaks to you?” Braxton asked.

“Nobody knows.” Willa said. Maybe Quintus did know though, she thought, and that was the reason, not her closeness with Elnath, that he rarely spoke to her?

“So, this whole time you have been lying to his children? Who, need I remind you, are your age. You have been lying to your cousins? To me?” Braxton said.

Willa took a deep breath to steady herself and said softly, “Braxton, listen, please. You cannot tell anyone. My father cannot learn about this. You have seen in my memories what he is capable of.”

“Why would your father care so much, besides that Mr. Malfoy is far too old for you?”

“Because he hates Septimus even more than you do, and he would delight in hurting him.” Willa said tightly.

“Good.” Braxton snapped.

Willa winced, then went on the attack, “And this from someone who claims to love me? You would see me suffer just to fulfill some revenge fantasy for an offense Septimus has not even committed?”

“Being separated from him would hardly be suffering. It might even afford you some clarity of thought.” Braxton said hotly.

“Clearly you do not understand.” Willa said, though the thought of being separated from Septimus did sound more horrific than the Cruciatus Curse. She had not even contemplated this as an option. She steeled herself and continued, “My father will torture me to punish Septimus. What you are telling me is that you wish to see my father torture me. Is that what you want?”

Braxton was silent.

A long time passed before he finally said, “All this time you have been attached to the man who destroyed my family. You knew about all of it, too. I showed you what happened. I showed you his betrayal. Yet you choose to trust him. You say we feel like siblings, but you are with the man who tore my family apart. How could you do that to me, to someone you claim to love as a brother?”

A tear streamed down Willa’s face as she thought of how Septimus _was_ Braxton’s family. How he had protected them at great personal costs since learning this truth. How he now kept their family together through fiscal means. She could not tell him this though; it was not her secret to tell. So, she said nothing.

“What a fool I have been. I should have stuck with my gut from the beginning when I told you we would never be friends.” Braxton shook his head looking away.

“You cannot mean that.” Willa protested.

“But I do.” Braxton’s gaze fell sharply upon her. “I will not reveal Percival’s identity to anyone. I do not wish you any harm. But, Willa, know that this between us, whatever this is, it is over.”

He stared into her to ensure she understood the finality in his message. It was only as Braxton marched away from her that Willa went into a panic.

“Wait, Braxton, wait!” she called starting to chase after him.

“Do not follow me!” Braxton yelled at her, then continued to walk away.

“Brax, please stop.” She said, unable to find much volume in her voice as she continued, “I cannot bear to lose another brother.”

Braxton stopped and turned to face her. His expression was hard, cold as stone as if all his hot anger had frozen into a mask upon him. He spoke in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone, but his words cut through Willa like a blade, “I am not your brother.”

Willa recoiled, but Braxton did not react. He merely left, ducking around a hedge nearby and disappearing from her sight. The next thing she knew was the cold earth beneath her hands as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground. A wail lurched from her chest and she had to support herself as the sobs overtook her.

“Willa!” Septimus cried upon entering the hedge row she was collapsed in several minutes later.

He ran to her, sitting beside her and pulling her body into a tight embrace. Willa sobbed into his chest for a few moments before she clung to him and managed to say, “He is gone. He is gone.”

Septimus rocked her as she continued to repeat her words. He knew she meant only figuratively, as he had run into a furious looking Braxton while searching for Willa and only narrowly dodged the hex his nephew threw at him. If he had realized how shattered Braxton had left Willa, alone in the middle of the night no less, he would not have simply let him pass.

Willa still repeated, “He is gone,” albeit less hysterically, so Septimus began to shush her and coax her back soothingly.

“Everything will be all right.” He said to her softly. “He will come around in time. Everything will be all right.”

Willa shook her head and said, “I do not think he will. He hates me now.”

“No, no, he hates me.” Septimus said. “But Byron and I are working every day to prevent Miranda’s execution while we find a way to free her from Azkaban. When we finally do, his parents will tell him the truth about everything. Once he knows the truth, once he has his mother back, he will have no reason to be so angry.”

Willa nodded, though she was not entirely sure it would matter. She snuggled deeper into Septimus’ embrace and he kissed the top of her head.

“I love you so much, Willa.” He said.

She nodded against his chest and said, “I love you too, Septimus.”

They stayed there in a silent embrace until Willa decided she should return before anyone else came in search of her. Though he had no desire to part from her, Septimus conceded. He still needed to give Quintus the engagement ring and make his way back to Bonargues for the night. It was already well after midnight.


	23. A Storm Is Coming

Braxton iced Willa out immediately, but not in the way she anticipated. She assumed he would stop hanging around her entirely, instead he continued to sit with the group during most meals and even still spoke to her. But the warmth that had been there before was gone.

The weekend following the First Task, Braxton began a bevy of quick dalliances. If who he arrived with at breakfast was any indicator, then nearly all the lovers were male. It was Hélène, not Willa, who took most of notice of all this; her flirtations with him increasing daily.

Braxton was far from the only person in the school with an increased desire for nightly companionship. Willa found herself enduring loud coital noises from every room in her dorm except for Penelope’s, as she always cast praeligo or stayed at Xabi’s dorm instead. At first it was annoying due to the loudness as Willa needed to study or sleep, but eventually she began to go somewhat mad with pent up lust for Septimus.

In exasperation one night, she penned him a letter on the topic, expressing how desperately she wanted him alone in her room to do whatever they desired together. She had not entirely intended to send the letter, but Galanta seemed too eager to fly not to give her the delivery.

The fresh air from opening the window solidified her decision to go downstairs for some peace, though it was too cold to go outside. As she ambled through the sculpture hall, she discovered Bertok engrossed with a canvas. She took in his work so far, already finely detailed as he stroked a tiny brush over the cheek of the woman in portraiture.

“One moment please.” He said in English, not looking away from his work.

As promised, a moment later he set down his brush and smiled up at Willa.

“Good evening. You cannot sleep either?” he asked.

“Something like that. The walls in my dorm are very thin.” Willa shrugged.

“Yes, same for me. Braxton is driving me insane.” Bertok grumbled.

“Who is she?” Willa pointed to his painting, having no desire to dwell on the topic of Braxton.

“Hildegard Brandt, the girl I am attached to.” Bertok smiled, a distant longing in his eyes.

“You must miss her.”

“Yes, all the time. We exchange owls, but it is not the same. You understand, with Percival being in Paris.” He replied.

Willa nodded.

“You are very talented at portraiture.” She said after a moment.

“Thank you. I hear you draw?”

“Yes, but not much lately.” She said and then finally mustered the courage to ask, “I wondered if you might do my portrait? Something small that I could give Percival as a gift.”

“I would love to!” He exclaimed, and began to speak fast with excitement, “How small are you thinking? I am not very good with miniatures. Perhaps something to put on his desk? Does he have a desk?”

Willa laughed at Bertok’s energy. It was her first genuine laugh since the First Task.

“He does have a desk. I think that size would be perfect.” She said. “When would you prefer to start?”

“Right now?” Bertok asked eagerly.

“We can, though I must look tired. I do not want to look tired in it.” Willa frowned.

“Of course you will not! I would not misrepresent your best form. It will be easy to capture even without perfect light and set up. Besides, the first steps are merely to get your shape down. What light style are you thinking?”

“Hildegard’s lighting is perfect. Something like that.”

“Yes, late afternoon sun. I will want to see you in it to get your hair color right.” He said as he began to draw together materials. “Sit there, please.”

Willa sat as directed and Bertok began. He scrutinized her face for a long time, craning his neck to find different angles. Nothing about it felt intimate as there was no romantic chemistry between them. Willa relaxed, happy for this peace from the anxieties of her other relationships. The most obvious thing she had noticed once Braxton shut her out was that had not made any real friends here, and Elnath was always with Patrice or Professor Flamel.

“When did you start painting?” Willa asked.

“Very young. My mother taught me.” He said. “She is very skilled in magical painting.”

“Are both your parents magical?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What do you mean, ‘of course’?”

“Durmstrang does not permit students without two magical parents.” He said simply.

“Not even half-bloods?” Willa was shocked.

“No, the only exception to true purebloods is the child of a witch or wizard who is Muggle-born or half-blood. There would still be Muggle lineage, but not direct to the child.”

“Why do they have this restriction?”

Bertok shrugged, “I never really thought about it.”

Willa said nothing and Bertok continued to sketch her face shape in silence until finally he announced himself done. They scheduled follow-up sittings and parted ways once upstairs to go to their respective towers.

* * *

 

Septimus wrote Willa back two days later in what became their most intimate exchange. He expressed his understanding of her sexual desires, admitting he frequently experienced them himself. He then offered suggestions of how she might handle such needs herself while they were apart. He explained he had been doing thus to himself for some time. Willa blushed as she read this line, though it made her yearn for him even more as she imagined him naked and lustful for her.

The rest of his letter was political, explaining that Ministre Lavoie decided not to move the idea of breaching the International Statute of Secrecy forward to the International Confederation of Wizards because instead Wizarding France would formally intervene with the Muggle conflict to prevent further spread. This would be done quietly, within the limits of the statute. Apparently President Rappaport had been in contact to provide insight to the most effective obliviation techniques for Muggles. The result of this decision was indeed the expected dissent from the _Anti-Moldus_. Vincent was in Vendee to see if moving the nobles and he and Septimus were hiding there was a viable option.

Willa locked her door, cast praeligo, took off her undergown, and reread the first part of Septimus’ letter in bed. Hélène’s usual noises came through the wall while Elnath was away at a lesson with Professor Flamel. As was often the case, Willa had no idea who was in bed with Hélène. She reached down to touch herself, imagining Septimus there with her, and soon lost track of any noise from Hélène’s bedroom due to her own pleasure.

The next morning when she emerged into the sitting room on her way to breakfast, Willa found Hélène and Elnath waiting.

“Morning,” Hélène said to her with a wide smile. “You look very refreshed.”

“Um, thanks.” Willa said, wondering if Hélène had heard her last night. She remembered she had cast praeligo and she did not think she had been very loud anyway. “You appear refreshed as well.”

“Thank you. I had the most delicious night of love making. He really blew me away, so much so I let him stay the night. That is who we are waiting for.” Hélène boasted.

“She will not say who it is. Now I am curious enough to wait.” Elnath shrugged, reorganizing the potions materials in her bag. “Have you heard from your mother lately?”

“Not since her congratulations on winning the First Task.” Willa frowned. “Why?”

“Nothing, just my mother has been on my case to talk to you. I assumed she would have Aunt Dipsas write you.” Elnath said.

“Oh, the whole thing with Rigel?” Willa asked, displeased.

“Yes, honestly I have just been ignoring him. That whole rhetoric seems disillusioned. Though they should be only faulting Mr. Malfoy and not you.”

“What are you discussing?” Hélène asked.

“Rigel disapproves of my statements in French court about the Statute of Secrecy. He feels I am being treacherous to Britain.” Willa explained.

“Honestly it is my father, not Rigel, who is saying all this. He and Mr. Flint have been spending too much time together.” Elnath said. “With Rigel’s apprenticeship to Mr. Malfoy, I do not understand why my father is saying these things. Mr. Malfoy’s rebuttal clearly delineated the benefits to Britain of France lifting the statute.”

Willa said nothing but a new worry crept in. One that Hélène quickly vocalized.

“Would Rigel change his apprenticeship to M. Flint? He is Chief Warlock and that is still a very high position.” Hélène said. “Besides, I did not feel M. Flint’s stance was so far off the mark. Lifting the statute puts all of us in greater danger.”

“You cannot mean that!” Willa protested right as the person Hélène was waiting for emerged from her bedroom fully dressed in his black school robes. It was Braxton.

Elnath let out a noise of disappointment and Willa stared a moment until Braxton caught her eye and flashed a grin before saying to Hélène, “I do not think Rigel would give loyalty to the Flints. They are not very tolerant people whereas he is.” He looked at Elnath and added, “I know you are not fond of me, but your brother and I remain close friends. Nothing in his recent letters to me suggests a shift in his loyalties or ambitions.”

Hélène kissed him warmly on the lips, as if they had been lovers for weeks not a single night, and murmured suggestively, “Are you close friends with everyone?”

Braxton laughed and kissed her again before he said, “No, not everyone.”

The pair exchanged a look and Braxton gave her a subtle shake of his head before eyeing Elnath a brief moment. Willa knew what it meant and fought the overwhelming urge to punch Hélène in her perfect face. Rigel’s sexuality was her and Braxton’s secret, their shared burden of knowledge. Yet Hélène had weaseled her way into that as well. She had stolen Braxton from her entirely, and the worst part was that Willa knew the threat all along.

“I need to go. I am supposed to meet Bertok.” Willa said suddenly.

“Oh, for the portrait you are giving Percival?” Elnath asked with interest.

“Yes,” Willa said, noticing Braxton tense up. “Exactly, yes. He wants to see me in different light to get the colors perfect for Percival.”

“I will walk with you.” Elnath said, linking arms with her cousin. She looked back at Hélène and commanded, “Do not have sex on the couch once we leave.”

Hélène’s laughter could be heard from the tower stairwell as they descended.

“I do not understand what anyone sees in him.” Elnath groaned. “But I am glad he finally got over you.”

“Yes, me too.” Willa said, and this time she meant it.

“I have news.” Elnath began in a hushed voice. “Professor Flamel told me last night that someone stole one of his stores of the elixir of life.”

“What?!” Willa knew it had to be Braxton. She wanted to talk him out of using it on Bathilda, but there would be no way he would listen to her now.

“Yes, which is concerning, of course, but he now needs to make a new batch as he only has one dose and must take it soon. He has offered to teach me the alchemy of the stone.” Elnath gushed quietly.

“That is incredible! He must see all of your potential. I am so happy for you!” Willa said, forgetting about Braxton in preference of her cousin’s success.

“Thank you. Yes, he says I am exceptional. He even has invited me to dinner with his wife in Bonargues.” Elnath beamed.

“Patrice must be so proud of you.” Willa said.

“I have not told him. He thinks I spend too much time with Professor Flamel as it is. He simply does not understand.” Elnath rolled her eyes.

“Well, I am proud of you.” Willa said.

Elnath’s smile widened, and Willa was tempted to tell her about her plans to apprentice under Artemisia. She hesitated, remembering the uncertainty of the Blacks’ allegiance and Uncle Castor’s disrespect for Mrs. Lufkin. It was not the right time to share this.

“Are you sending Rigel a birthday gift?” Willa asked instead.

“Merlin! I completely forgot that was coming up. He _is_ inheriting an entire house in London. I do not think anything I give him can compete with that.” Elnath said. “What is today? The eighth of December?”

“Yes, so you have ten days, well five with the time the owl will take to reach him from here.”

“Did you get him something?”

“A month ago, yes. I had Percival buy this beautiful ichneumon fur hat for him in Paris and send me it here. Now I wonder if I should send it to Rigel at all. I have not written him for weeks, since before the First Task.” Willa said. Septimus had also picked up a gold, snake-shaped broach adorned with sapphires for her to give Elnath as a birthday gift, but she asked him to keep it for her until April when Elnath would turn seventeen.

“Do you think what Braxton said is true? That he is writing us less honestly because we are family, but he truly has not changed?” Elnath asked quietly.

“I hope so.” Willa said.

“We should send him presents. He will be sad if we do not. He loves his birthday.” Elnath said and Willa nodded.

* * *

 

A week later, they all arrived at dinner to find Ministre Lavoie herself was present. The dining hall was hushed whispers as everyone tried to determine why she would be there. M. Droit was with her, but in discussion with Headmistress Lestrange.

“Something is wrong.” Willa said quietly to her group.

“What do you think it is?” Bertok asked her. They had finished her portrait a mere two days before and Willa sent it to Septimus earlier that day.

“Has Percival told you something?” Elnath asked.

Willa shook her head and Braxton eyed her with more concern than he had shown for a month.

“They are going to close the school?” Braxton asked, his eyes locked on hers.

“That is my guess.” Willa nodded.

Before the others could react, Headmistress Lestrange stood and the hall fell silent.

“Students, we have an esteemed guest tonight, as Ministre Lavoie has come to make a very important announcement. Ministre?” the headmistress said, motioning for the Ministre to speak.

Ministre Lavoie stood, her face grave as she began, “Good evening students. As you all know, the _moldus_ are at war within France. _Le Ministère_ has determined we will intervene with the conflict to minimize its impact on our community and protect us from exposure. Unfortunately this means we no longer can guarantee your safety here at Beauxbatons. M. Droit and I have worked with the heads of each school and determined the Triwizard Tournament will move to Hogwarts but continue to be hosted by Beauxbatons through Headmistress Lestrange. Since Hogwarts castle and its staff are too small to accommodate the entire population of Beauxbatons, you will be divided and the majority of you will complete your matriculation for the year at Durmstrang.

The Yule Ball will signify the final event at Beauxbatons for this year. The morning after the ball, carriages will take you all to your assigned schools. Those too young to attend the Yule Ball will leave on an earlier escort Christmas Day. Anyone wishing not to remain on palace grounds after classes finish will be responsible for their own transportation to their assigned school.”

She took a breath and then continued in a more emotional tone, “While we lament that this will be disruptive, your safety is our primary concern. I personally am very sad to be forced to make this decision, but ultimately we had no other option.”

“Thank you, _ministre_.” Headmistress Lestrange said. “I am certain all of you will continue to represent Beauxbatons well into the winter and spring semesters. Please address any questions you have to your professors or myself.”

With that, the food appeared on the tables and an immediate surge of conversation ensued.

“At least they did not cancel the Yule Ball.” Penelope commented.

“Oh, I wish they had.” Bertok grumbled. “As a Champion, I will be expected to attend with someone. I only wish to bring Hildegard but am not allowed.”

“I will go with you. I doubt Percival will be able to attend either.” Willa offered.

“Oh, that would be great!” Bertok smiled, clearly relieved.

“Do you think any parents will attend? They are always invited, but with the conflict, will they come? I do not think mine will.” Penelope asked.

“Mine will not.” Xabi shrugged. “But you already know them. I believe they will come for the final task, though now that it is at Hogwarts, perhaps not.”

“What about your parents, Brax?” Hélène asked.

“Oh, no. My baby sister would make travel difficult.” He said and glanced nervously at Willa and Elnath. No one from Beauxbatons knew his mother was in prison. Though Willa was surprised Hélène had not researched this factoid already.

“Well, perhaps I will meet them at Hogwarts.” Hélène smiled and snuggled against him for a kiss.

* * *

A couple days after Ministre Lavoie’s announcement classes ended and a new letter arrived from Septimus. Her group spent several hours and bottles of wine worth of celebration in their sitting room. Willa excused herself when Bertok had left to avoid being the odd one out among three couples, and now she relaxed into the soft pillows of her bed and opened the new letter.

> My beautiful Willa,
> 
> Foremost, thank you so much for the gift of your portrait. Mr. Grindelwald has captured your exquisite beauty with a precision I find difficult to look away from. This may in fact be the best gift I have ever received.
> 
> I was quite pleased to hear my suggestions have helped to ease your pressing needs. Admittedly this idea has given me some additional scenarios to imagine in my own time of self-satisfaction. The idea of you in total pleasure is impossible not to dwell on.
> 
> In hopefully related news, I absolutely plan to attend the Yule Ball. As usual, the parents are invited, so it is very straightforward for me with Quintus there. He has asked me not to attend, citing our collective safety and stating he felt everyone would be better off back in England. While I cannot disagree with his concerns, the fact that you are obligated to attend means I must go as well—especially given the concern of safety. On that note, Vincent has agreed to come as well and bring Artemisia. It is intended as a gesture of good faith between our two governments. Hopefully it makes a difference. While I have not seen any further activity from the Anti-Moldus, they are using the closure of Beauxbatons as proof that Ministre Lavoie has made the wrong decision. That helping the Muggles is more dangerous than staying hidden.
> 
> I know you remain concerned about Rigel, Castor, and Cecil, and I cannot diminish your worries at all. The Flints have invited Octavia for the Christmas holiday since Quintus and I are in France. Obviously this is not the innocent gesture Miss Flint claims it to be. I refused the offer and leave tomorrow to collect Octavia myself from Hogwarts. I fear I have not yet mentioned it, but Dobbins has passed away, so we will pay him tribute before returning to France for Christmas.
> 
> I plan to stay in Bonargues with Octavia but arrive early enough on Christmas Eve to attend dinner at Beauxbatons. My hope is to spend as much time at the palace as possible so that you and I might find a moment alone. Perhaps that moment will be in your bedroom as you have imagined…
> 
> I miss you a great deal and possess the excitement of a child at Christmas when I think of how soon I will see you again. I love you, Willa.
> 
> With all my love,
> 
> Septimus

She folded the letter and placed it on her nightstand with a smile. She felt warm with the wine from earlier and the prospect of Septimus in her bedroom. She squeezed one of her pillows against her and murmured, “ _Nox_.” Braxton’s and Hélène’s giggles and squeals floated through their shared wall and lulled her to sleep.

Willa had not had her usual nightmare about killing Ciaran for some time. The forest was different in tonight’s version, not Ohio Country, but somewhere closer, familiar. It was the woods at Beauxbatons, Willa realized. In the dream she was alone, though this did not last long.

“Hello,” Braxton called softly to her. She turned and found him naked, realizing suddenly that she too was naked. She went to him and he held her body flush to his. Then they were having sex on the forest floor. Willa’s mind invented how this would work, as she had never had sex. Braxton was on top of her and in the throes of pleasure when her father cast the Killing Curse on him. Braxton’s body did not fall on her though, as her father held it up by his head while he looked down on Willa. His eyes were their usual intense black and he shoved Braxton’s dead face close to her and growled out, “Kiss him goodbye. This is only the beginning.”

Willa shot awake screaming uncontrollably. Before she could orientate herself, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye.

“ _Lumos Maxima_!” she yelled.

In the bright light she saw Braxton by her bedroom door, shielding his eyes and shirtless.

“Are you a ghost?” Willa asked.

“What? No, I heard you screaming.” He said.

Willa scrutinized him a moment before deciding he was alive and then asked, “Why are you shirtless?”

“Oh,” Braxton grinned to himself, like she had reminded him of a private joke. “Hélène destroyed my clothing.”

Willa doublechecked he wore pants, which he did, and muttered, “Not all of it.”

“These are not mine. Probably some other bloke’s.” Braxton shrugged and walked over to Willa’s bed. “How are you doing that?”

“You cannot cast lumos maxima?” Willa asked, doubtful.

“No, I mean without a wand.”

“Oh,” Willa had not realized she casted it wandless. She pulled most of the light back into her so the room was less blinding. “You have seen me use wandless magic before. It is easy, really.”

“Can I sit?” Braxton asked.

“Why are you here?” Willa pressed.

“You were screaming, terrified. It woke me up.”

As he said it, Elnath let out a loud noise of pleasure through their shared wall.

“Sure it was not her?” Willa said dryly. “I swear these walls are false. How else would it be this loud?”

“So you can hear both sides like this?” Braxton asked sheepishly.

Willa just looked at him.

“I will use praeligo in the future.” He muttered.

“I thought you were doing it on purpose to be petty.” Willa shrugged.

“No,” Braxton said softly. “Listen, I am sorry I reacted so harshly to you being with Septimus.”

“ _Praeligo_ ,” Willa cast, then stared at him, “You are sorry?”

“Yes. I was hurt and I needed time to cool off. This place just… shifted my cultural thinking to something I longed for at Hogwarts. I let that convince me you would have changed, too. It was wrong of me, and I am sorry.” As Braxton finished his apology, Patrice made a loud groan of pleasure causing both of them to laugh.

Willa scooted over on her bed and patted for Braxton to sit. They leaned back into the headboard and Willa let out a long sigh.

“In my nightmare, my father murdered you in front me and then told me your death was only the beginning.” She said.

“That is horrible.” Braxton breathed as he put his arm around Willa’s shoulders and pulled her close. She relaxed into him, grateful for the human embrace.

“So, you are wearing another boy’s pants?” Willa teased after a long moment that was quiet other than Elnath’s and Patrice’s coital noises.

“I assume.” He shrugged. “I did not think it would be appropriate to come in here entirely naked.”

“No, you probably would be in a lot of pain.” Willa laughed. “You do not mind though, that Hélène is not faithful to you?”

“Not at all. She and Penelope are very close. It was clear from the beginning I would be secondary to their relationship.” He explained. “Anyone else is just who she is.”

“I do not think I could share Septimus like that.” Willa said. “It is already complicated enough.”

“What I have with Hélène is not complicated. It is entirely straightforward. No secrets, no wondering.” He paused a moment before saying, “It is what I wanted with Clement, but he wanted more.”

“Wait, Clement?” Willa asked.

“Yes, Clement. Obviously he and Rigel are better suited to each other.” Braxton shrugged.

“What about Rigel? I always found him more attractive than Clement.” Willa said.

“Ah, Rigel. He would love it here.” Braxton said wistfully. “He told me he is going to host a New Year’s party at his new house. I will have to bring some of the Beauxbatons guys with me to show them off to him. I am sure you are invited.”

“I am not so certain. He and I are not exactly on speaking terms even if I did send him a birthday present.” Willa said.

In truth, a party sounded far less enticing than being alone with Septimus to bring in 1793. They had yet to discuss when they would go public though, now that she was returning to England, so she did not know if it was even an option. As it stood, her current plans were to stay with the Blacks until the new term started.

“We kissed last spring,” Braxton said, still speaking about Rigel. “But it was all wrong. Wrong timing. Wrong person. I find him too…manly.”

“You sound like Elnath. She does not like manly men.” Willa mused playfully.

“Unlike you, who wants them full man, children and power and old age to boot.” Braxton teased.

“Yes, unlike me.” Willa rolled her eyes. “Septimus is not so old though, all things considered.”

“Not compared to Professor Flamel, no.”

“Or Marcellus Lestrange, who you are so fond of you could not even form coherent words upon meeting him.” Willa probed.

Braxton shoved her playfully.

“I am fond of his work.” He protested. “Hélène still thinks you are fond of him though.”

“Really?” Willa laughed.

“Are you?”

“I love Septimus. He is the only person I am fond of.” Willa said. It was more refreshing to say out loud than she anticipated. She continued, explaining, “But since no one can know that yet, I may as well work the world to my advantage. It is not as if Marcellus was subtle about his attraction to me.”

“You sound like him.” Braxton muttered.

“Like who? Marcellus?”

“No, like Mr. Malfoy. Power-hungry, selfish, manipulative.”

“You know it is funny. People say he and I are so alike, yet no one knows him at all. Apparently, no one knows me either.” Willa said angrily. “In fact, he and I are very alike. We value all the same things. We have the same aesthetic. He even has the same taste in wine as I do. But nothing he does is selfish. Especially—and I know you will not believe me—when it comes to your family.”

“So he send us money. So what? So does your father.” Braxton said hotly.

“First off, my father does not send you money. He would _never_ do that. _He_ is far too selfish.” Willa said. “My mother is the one sending it, though I have no idea how. My father is the most controlling person I know, both power-hungry and manipulative. If I am those traits, then I learned it from him.”

Braxton had no response for this.

“Second off, do you know how many times your mother has been scheduled for execution?”

“None.” Braxton said tensely.

“Wrong. Four times. Every time it has been extended because Septimus put in a petition for more time to overturn her case.” Willa said.

“That cannot be true. Did he tell you that?”

“No, I researched it with the Ministry back in England. The witch in Record Keeping is very nice, you should write her yourself.”

“Maybe I will.” Braxton grumbled.

“All I am saying is that if you give Septimus a chance, he will probably surprise you.” Willa said through a yawn.

“I will consider it for you.” Braxton said after a long moment. Willa did not respond and he looked down to find she was asleep.

* * *

 

A few days later Christmas Eve arrived and with it, a massive snow storm. People were calling it the worst blizzard in decades. The school had already mostly emptied out once the parents learned it was considered unsafe. None of them wished to endanger their children for something as trivial as the Yule Ball. In fact, it was almost entirely French Muggle-born students who remained. The school still safer than their homes.

All of Willa’s usual group remained however, and Patrice confirmed his parents were coming to visit Christmas Day. Elnath could not stop talking about this, especially now that Professor Flamel was gone to settle into Hogwarts before the new term.

“What should I wear tomorrow to ensure they like me?” she asked as she fussed around her bedroom while Willa helped her actually pack her trunk for their approaching departure.

Her own trunk was mostly finished, with a couple day outfits and her Yule Ball gown laid out for the next two days. It was hard to remain sensible as Elnath droned on about the Fleurys when she knew Septimus was on his way to Bonargues at that very moment. She glanced out the window to check on the snow, which continued to storm down, and her anxieties grew. Hopefully Septimus would be wise enough not to come by carriage.

“The red or the blue, Willa?” Elnath said with annoyance, holding up two garments.

“The blue, of course. It brings out your eyes and works better with your complexion.” Willa said. She looked out the window again, “Do you think they will even be able to come in this weather?”

“They better.” Elnath muttered.

Willa sat on Elnath’s bed and commented, “I did not realize you were so serious about Patrice.”

“Well, perhaps if you had not been so engaged with Percival and Braxton, you might have noticed what was happening in front of your face.” Elnath snapped.

Willa stared at her for a harsh minute before standing again, “It seems I have helped you sufficiently. I am going to freshen up and head down for dinner. I shall see you there, my dear cousin.”

She left to her bedroom and shut the door, locking it so Elnath could not follow her inside. Maybe her cousin was right, and she had been too self-absorbed to notice her relationship with Patrice was more than the sex she heard through their shared wall. She had not even bothered to research him for suitability because she assumed it would end.

She let out a sigh and looked in the full-length mirror. _Am I selfish like Braxton says?_ She asked her reflection. Then she thought, _So what if I am._ It was not as if Elnath had been paying her any special attention or asking about her wellbeing. Elnath never had mentioned that Percival was a false name, which made Willa wonder if she even had been listening to that conversation with Hélène at all except for when it pertained to how she could better pleasure Patrice.

Resolved not to feel any guilt for her own behavior, Willa combed through her hair once and turned to head out for dinner just as there was a tapping on her window. At first she thought the snow had turned to sleet or hail, but soon recognized the shape of an owl hovered against the pane. She opened it and Percival’s owl hopped inside far enough that she could quickly reclose the window.

She untied the note from its talon and unrolled it.

> My perfect Willa,
> 
> We arrived safely via Floo but will be stuck in Bonargues tonight due to the storm.
> 
> Until tomorrow, with all my love,
> 
> Septimus


	24. Christmas with the Malfoys

Willa peered out her bedroom window Christmas morning to find the entire grounds covered in a thick layer of fresh snow glistening in the sunrise of the perfectly clear day. She dressed quickly and spent a few extra moments on her appearance, hopeful Septimus would drag Octavia early from Bonargues for breakfast at the palace.

She slipped out well ahead of her roommates and was one of the earliest people to the dining room for breakfast. There was better food than normal, the usual sweet breads and pastries along with cured ham and fresh cheeses and fruits. With barely anyone in the dining hall, it felt odd to sit in her usual spot.

“Willa?” a female voice called in English. She looked to find its source, Octavia Malfoy, stood beside Septimus.

Willa broke into a smile at the sight of him, but nearly did a double take at Octavia. She had physically matured entirely while Willa had been in France. The cut of her day dress and choice of hairstyle clearly indicated how aware she was of her new body.

“Octavia! Happy Christmas! How are you? You look well.” Willa said brightly then gave Septimus a formal nod, “Mr. Malfoy, Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Miss Gamp.” He replied.

“Happy Christmas, Willa! I am well, thank you. Missing my friends back in England. Josephina invited me to stay with her during the holiday.” She replied, then gave her father a scowling look of disapproval that dampened her newfound beauty.

“The Flints will be perfectly content without you.” Septimus replied in a stern tone. “Besides, all your friends will be with their own families today.”

“You, on the other hand, get to attend an extravagant ball full of beautiful foreigners and excellent wine.” Willa pointed out.

“Father did buy me a new dress for it.” Octavia boasted, “You should take breakfast with us. I have heard so many accounts of you since you have been away, I yearn for the truth.”

“The truth?” Willa laughed, her eyes flashing to Septimus who merely wore an amused grin that assured her Octavia was not referring to their romance.

“Yes, your version of events. Have you always been this scandalous?” she pressed.

“Octavia!” Septimus chided.

Willa laughed and said playfully, “Yes. That is why they kicked me out of America.”

As the three sat for breakfast, it became apparent the scandals all had to do with politics and the anti-Muggle sentiments in England. The Flints had done their damage on Octavia as well as Rigel. When Octavia let slip the slur ‘mudblood,’ Septimus reprimanded her.

“Enough,” he said with finality. “We do not use that term. It is unbecoming of our stature.”

“ _You_ do not use that term. Mother always did.” Octavia stated without much emotion.

Willa could feel Septimus’ tension. Clearly there was more to this than a reference to Lila.

She leaned closer to Octavia and in a conversational tone asked, “Rigel wrote to me that you two are closer friends now that you are a prefect. Tell me, do you know what his father does for employment?”

Octavia pursed her lips into a frown as she thought, finally shaking her head and guessing, “He works for the Ministry?”

“No,” Willa smiled. “I admit it was a trick question, for my Uncle Castor has no employment. That stated, how do you think the Blacks have so much money?”

Octavia looked between Willa and her father, debating if it was another trick question. When they gave her no help, she said, “Inheritance.”

“Correct. Do you know where that money came from?” Willa asked, still in a casual tone.

“Why do not just tell me and we can quit playing this silly game?” Octavia said and bit into a sweet roll.

Willa laughed humorously and then said, “It came from Muggles. It still, in fact, comes from Muggles. The Black family continues to operate outside the magical law collecting taxes from Muggles by claiming to be the nobility of Oxfordshire county. Perhaps you have heard what happened to the Muggle nobility here in France?”

Octavia swallowed her bread and said quietly, “They were beheaded.”

“Yes, among other more gruesome forms of execution. The kinds that keep me up at night worrying for the safety of my cousins and their limbs.” Willa said and drank some coffee while Octavia blanched. “I have just one more question for you, Octavia.”

“Hm?” the girl managed, setting down her bread as though she lost her appetite.

Willa met Septimus’ eyes before looking directly at Octavia to ask, “What do you think your father has been doing in France?”

“He…” Octavia began, then looked at her father pleadingly.

“No, I do not want the truth. I already know the truth. I want to know what you think, Octavia.” Willa pressed.

“He and Artemisia Lufkin have been working with the French Ministry to—” she stopped and looked around nervously before lowering her voice to finish, “To dismantle the Statute of Secrecy so we will live openly among Muggles again.”

Willa breathed a laugh and shook her head. “No, Octavia. That is not what he has been doing here. He and Mrs. Lufkin have been working to push the French into intervening with the Muggle revolution both to save innocent lives—Muggle and magical alike—and to prevent the spread of republicanism to Great Britain. If it comes to England, the Crown will be overthrown and people like the Blacks will die. I know that is what he has been doing because I have been helping him and Mrs. Lufkin. We are trying to save lives. That is my version of events. The true version.”

“So you do not wish to live among the Muggles?” Octavia asked her father.

“If the Statute had been suspended, then the work to end this revolution and its spread to Europe and Britain would be easier.” Septimus said. “But no, I do not wish our worlds reunite. I only wish we could intervene when the Muggles choose to war with each other.”

Willa ate some ham and cheese while Octavia processed everything.

Finally she turned to her father to say, “I apologize. I understand now.”

“I am glad you understand.” Septimus smiled and gave Octavia’s shoulder a squeeze.

Octavia smiled and began to butter her sweet bread. Septimus mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Willa, who gave him a small nod. She longed to hold him, and clearly he felt the same way because he moved his outside leg closer to her under the table so their ankles touched.

A few moments later Quintus approached Octavia and Septimus silently from behind, a finger pressed to his lips. Willa made no indication that she noticed his presence or that of Catherine and Charlotte who were with him. Quintus reached his arm around Octavia’s face and conjured a delicate bouquet of purple asters in his hand. She brightened entirely and stood to embrace him.

“Happy Christmas, brother!”

“Octavia, you have grown.” Quintus blurted out.

“Yes, without you around to stunt my growth, it was bound to happen.” She smirked.

Quintus rolled his eyes and then held his hand out for Catherine to take. “You know the Avery sisters, right Octavia?”

“Yes, Charlotte is a Slytherin.” She said and smiled at Charlotte then bid both girls Christmas tidings.

Quintus glanced at his father, who shook his head to indicate he had not told Octavia about the engagement. He smiled at Willa, who sat across from Septimus, and said, “Happy Christmas, Willa. Are you alone?”

He looked around briefly, which Willa assumed was for Elnath.

“I am. Octavia invited me to take breakfast with herself and your father.” Willa nodded.

“I trust her.” Catherine said quietly to Quintus, who nodded his agreement.

“Trust her with what?” Octavia pressed.

“Catherine and I are engaged.” Quintus smiled.

“Engaged?” Octavia said, wide-eyed, and turned back to her father, “You approved?”

“Yes, from what your brother tells me, Miss Avery will make a wonderful addition to our family.” Septimus said pointedly and Octavia quieted.

“Congratulations!” Willa said warmly to Quintus and Catherine to counteract Octavia’s rudeness. “Come, Catherine, let me see the ring. Has your sister just learned the news as well?”

“No, she told me the night it happened. It was the Saturday after the First Task.” Charlotte beamed, clearly glad to be able to speak about now with other people.

“You must be so excited!” Willa said to her.

Catherine let go of Quintus’ hand to come around the table and show Willa her ring. It did fit her hand nicely and Willa smiled remembering when Septimus had shown her it for approval. She began to imagine his lips on her own and had to remind herself of Catherine’s abilities.

“It is beautiful!” Willa exclaimed. “Quintus has brilliant taste.”

Quintus gave her a sly smile and said, “My father picked it out for me.”

Willa smiled back at him then looked at Septimus with an approving nod.

“It is new and not mother’s? Let me see.” Octavia demanded.

“Let Miss Avery sit down at least.” Septimus scolded then looked at Catherine and motioned for her to sit, “Please, you and your sister should join us for breakfast.”

“Thank you, sir.” Catherine said, sliding next to Willa on the bench and Charlotte beside her. Quintus sat beside his sister as Catherine held her left hand out to her.

“I do like it.” Octavia nodded. “Much less ostentatious than Willa’s ring from Percival.”

“I do not find my ring ostentatious at all.” Willa protested and looked down at her ring with a smile. She then snuck at glance at Septimus who was smiling at her.

“Did the storm affect your travel too greatly, Mr. Malfoy?” Catherine asked.

“No, we came by Floo to avoid it.” Septimus replied. “Thank you for asking.”

“How is the snow? It looked pristine from my bedroom window this morning.” Willa commented.

“It is quite deep. We had to take a flying carriage from Bonargues.” Septimus said.

“It reminds me of last winter at Ilvermorny. I did not go home because… well, because Ciaran was killed on New Year’s Day 1791, so it was the first Christmas without him.” Willa stopped, realizing this was the second Christmas since she killed him.

Septimus rubbed her ankle with his own under the table to comfort her.

“Was there a snowstorm in Massachusetts last winter?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Willa said looking into his eyes. She felt immediately safe and let out a laugh as she remembered why she brought it up in the first place. “Yes, and most of the school stays because they are too poor to go home. We had the biggest snowball fight! Horned Serpent won of course, despite Thunderbird’s claims.”

“We should have a snowball fight!” Charlotte exclaimed.

“I agree with Miss Avery.” Septimus grinned.

“You cannot be serious! I did not dress for such an occasion.” Octavia protested.

“You are just scared because you know you will lose.” Quintus sneered.

“I am not scared of you, brother.”

“What about us three versus the Malfoys?” Catherine said to Willa and Charlotte.

“Seems like a mostly even match to me.” Willa shrugged, “Though they may be slightly underserved with Mr. Malfoy’s old age affecting his skill.”

Quintus let out a loud laugh and Octavia’s eyes grew to the size of saucers at Willa’s brazen insult.

“Oh, my poor Miss Gamp.” Septimus said and tutted her. “I fear you misjudge me.”

“Do I, Mr. Malfoy? Well, I fear you will need to prove it.” Willa challenged.

“Finish your breakfast and I will.” Septimus said, pushing a plate of sliced winter melon towards Willa with a daring expression.

“You will need the sustenance more than me, sir.” Willa grinned. She stabbed a melon slice and held it up to him.

“I am thinking of your long-term health, since the only thing you will be eating later is regret.” Septimus said and then ate the melon off her fork.

“We will play by Malfoy rules?” Quintus clarified loudly to distract the group’s attention from whatever what happening between his father and Willa.

“How else would one play?” Octavia said haughtily.

“It does seem everyone plays by Malfoy rules.” Catherine quipped.

“I disagree. Most of you seem to play by Gaunt rules.” Willa said and ate a piece of melon from the same fork.

“Gaunt rules?” Septimus asked once she swallowed.

“Gaunt rules define one’s purpose.” Willa said. She laughed once, looked at Octavia then back at Septimus and added, “After all, why bother trying—”

“If you do not aim to win.” All three Malfoys and Charlotte finished for her in unison.

“See, Gaunt rules.” Willa smiled triumphantly and then looked at the group as she stood, “Shall we begin?”

Septimus stood as well, which caused the rest of them to follow, and he began to coordinate with Quintus where they should set up their snowball fight.

“What exactly are Malfoy rules?” Charlotte asked Catherine and Willa as their trio pulled away from the Malfoys.

“Oh, they make up rules as they go to fit their scenario.” Catherine said, then groaned, “It is infuriating at times.”

“You are the one marrying into it!” Willa laughed.

Catherine gave her a pointed look and Willa could not help but blush.

“I have not told anyone, but you two are not being very subtle today.” Catherine said quietly enough that no one but Willa could hear.

“No one can know while I remain in France.” Willa whispered back.

Her emotions reflected her deepest fears and Catherine nodded, “I know.”

“South meadows.” Quintus announced, and the group made their way to the large sloping fields south of the palace.

The snow was so deep it came up to Charlotte’s lower torso. After her shriek as she sunk in, Willa quickly taught the Avery sisters the modified Bubble charm that allowed their feet to move lightly over the snow to avoid such an occurrence. Across the field, Octavia’s loud scream of protest and Quintus’ and Septimus’ ensuing laughter gave the girls a giggle and Charlotte more confidence that she was not that behind in magic comparatively.

“Quintus sometimes can be a know-it-all.” Catherine admitted as they continued onto the field.

“Well, let us show him how much more you actually know.” Willa grinned.

She began to delegate tasks to them, Catherine to help her make a protective wall of snow and Charlotte to begin building their arsenal of snowballs. Soon it was apparent neither Avery knew elemental magic and Willa quickly taught them the basics of manipulating water. It was the same magic she used in the First Task. They were fast learners and Charlotte’s transfiguration skills had vastly improved since their last mentoring session at Hogwarts. Willa complimented her on this, earning her points with both sisters.

Their wall in place and several hundred snowballs stacked and waiting, they heard Septimus call out, “Ready?”

Catherine was about to respond when a massive snowball crashed into their wall and knocked sheets of snow into her, throwing her to the ground. Willa cleared the majority of the snow off of her while yelling to Charlotte, “Pummel them!”

Catherine looked livid when she finally stood and dried herself. She stared across the field at a maniacally grinning Octavia and said with harsh certainty to Willa, “Octavia Malfoy is going to wish she never was born.”

Willa tried to stop herself from laughing but could not. Catherine glared at her until finally she realized the situation was funny and laughed, too.

“Come on, let us take her down.” Willa grinned, flicking her wand to raise several dozen snowballs in the air. She hexed them to specifically target Octavia and Catherine copied her.

A few minutes later Octavia screamed loudly, “I hate you!” as she ran from the relentless snowballs.

Willa saw her comment was aimed at Septimus, not them, and he hurried to do magic impressive enough to win back her favor as well as the snowball fight. Willa watched him with interest to determine what he was casting and admire his body as he moved. It was a physically demanding spell and Catherine gasped right as Willa realized what he was doing.

“He would not attack us with that. He knows we cannot defend ourselves against it.” She protested.

“Are you kidding? I am shocked he is doing something so basic.” Willa said. Catherine looked at her with disbelief and Willa grinned. “You and Charlotte should stand behind me and shield yourselves just in case.”

Septimus had conjured a dragon out of snow by then and Catherine hastily cast, “ _Protego!_ ”

Willa closed her eyes and focused. He was using a more advanced form of elemental magic than what she had in the First Task. Now though, there were no musical instruments demanding her attention. She took a deep breath, knelt to touch the snow, and then cast the spell to conjure a basilisk out of it.

The Avery sisters let out impressed noises and Willa commanded in Parseltongue, “Kill the dragon.”

The eyes of all three Malfoys widened as the snow basilisk came for their dragon. Willa and Septimus battled it out, both walking forward into the open field to better control their snow beasts. Willa quickly had the upper hand as she could control her beast with words and focus her magic on separately attacking the snow dragon. Soon a massive explosion of snow showered over both of them when the basilisk finally killed the dragon.

Septimus approached her, covered in snow and laughing, and congratulated her on her win. As they shook hands he leaned in closer to say, “You never fail to impress me.”

He brushed some excess snow from her hair as Willa said, “We should get Octavia inside before she murders you.”

Septimus laughed and called out to everyone they were going inside to warm up. They retired into sitting area of Catherine and Charlotte’s dorm since their roommates went home over the break and would return to Durmstrang in January. The fire crackled softly as they drank hot chocolates.

The warmth of it all and physical exertion from earlier eventually made everyone sleepy. Catherine carried Charlotte to her room, as the eleven-year-old was already asleep, and when Catherine did not return, Willa assumed she had curled up with her sister and fallen asleep herself. Once Octavia and Quintus both began to snore lightly from their oversized chairs, Willa whispered in Septimus’ ear, “Do you think we can disappear in my room for an hour?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. They stood quietly and tiptoed out of the room. Septimus cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and followed directly behind Willa as she led the way to the northwest tower, his hand on her back so she would know where he was. No one was in her dorm’s common room, thankfully, and they were able to get into her bedroom without issue.

Once inside she cast praeligo to be safe. Septimus undid his Disillusionment charm while she locked the door. When she turned to face him, he caught her body immediately pulling her into a kiss. Willa relaxed into it, letting out a soft moan as his lips felt better than she remembered. Her body coursed with energy from the sugar and exercise and hormones, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do with Septimus.

“I want to give you a Christmas present.” She said softly in his ear, pulling on his earlobe lightly with her teeth.

“I have not gotten you anything, though.” He said.

“You are here, that is the perfect gift.” She smiled and he smiled back at her. She kissed him tenderly once and then said, “I want to show you the depth of my love for you.”

“I do still wish to wait until we are married to be entirely intimate.” He said, stroking her cheek.

Willa nodded with a coy smile, “We will.”

Septimus looked into her in a way that made every nerve flutter in Willa’s body. She reached for his robe and began to pull it off. He helped her and then took off hers and her stay, so they were both standing there in just their underclothes. Willa felt a sense of haughty excitement in that she finally had the man she was attached to in her bedroom, like all the other girls had done since November.

She kissed him again, her hand rubbed over his crotch and into the top of his pants. Septimus exhaled loudly as she slid her hand down to the base of his erection. She wrapped her hand around him and pulled upwards with pressure. His girth was much thicker than she had mentally prepared for, but she hooked her fingers over the silk waistline of his pants to pull them down and expose him fully. She ran her hand back down to his base and pulled up again. Septimus let out a moan, so she repeated the movement.

“I planned to leave your shirt on, is that all right?” she whispered to him.

“Yes, I understand.” He nodded and then kissed her mouth hard.

She kissed him back for a moment, continuing her hand’s motions, and then her lips moved to his neck and clavicle as she used her free hand to pull down the collar of his undershirt. She lowered herself in front of him, looking at him up close. She had seen an erect penis only twice before, and neither was intended for her to see. Once she had walked in on Ciaran pleasuring himself and the other was the time she burst in on Rigel and Clement in Salazar’s Study.

Septimus’ was far more intriguing to her, and part of her desired to just look at it. She tugged on him again several times, increasing her speed like Penelope had suggested, and he looked down at her with a fun smile. She smiled back at him, her eyes flashed daringly, and then she moved her mouth to his head and circled it with her tongue. He produced a gasping moan to her satisfaction, and she proceed to move her mouth over as much of his length she could fit inside of her. In her lesson, Hélène had not provided insight on how to handle a man of Septimus’ size, so Willa had to improvise. Thankfully, everything she did produced a sound of pleasure from him, so she knew it was working.

After a few minutes, she managed to find a combination of her mouth and hand that formed a rhythm both comfortable for her and highly stimulating for him. She could sense his enjoyment increasing, his breath quickened and his moans became even more frequent, so she picked up her speed slightly. He exhaled her name when she did, and Willa never felt so gratified in her life. A few moments later he was releasing himself inside her mouth, repeating her name through pleasured groans as he did. She waited until his breathing steadied to pull her mouth away, silently casting evanesco to dry it out after she did.

“Willa,” Septimus breathed out. She looked up at him from her knees with a wide smile. He was holding his hand out to her and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. A mirthful smile was plastered to his face and he wet his lips and let out a laugh.

“I love you, Septimus.” Willa said.

He pulled her face to his, cupping it with both hands and kissed her fervently. She kissed him with equal passion and he backed them up, lips connected, to her bed. He sat on the mattress, pulling her body with him as he lay on his back. Her legs straddled his still naked lower body and she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He played with it awhile before pulling away to say, “I am afraid, my beautiful Willa, that I love you so deeply, I will need to show you as well.”

She smiled down at him and he grabbed her by the waist and flipped her on her back. She bit her lip as she looked into his eyes, and then began to pull off her undergown. He helped her and discarded it beside the bed, his eyes roaming over her naked body.

“I have missed your breasts rather a lot.” He said.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes with a playful smirk before wrapping his lips around her nipple.

Willa exhaled in a relaxed pleasure, moving her hand to the back of his head to comb through his hair like she had the previous time they were in bed together. Eventually he continued his mouth’s journey to her clitoris, and she was so turned on by the time he arrived there that her orgasm did not take very long.

After she finished, he looked at her with a warm smile and said, “I love you, Willa. Everything about you. You are so perfect, I do not know how I deserve you.”

“Because you are perfect, too.” Willa said happily. “Come and lie with me.”

He lay beside her, pulling her body close against his and murmured, “I do not know how I would fare without you in my life.”

Willa snuggled into him further and said, “You never shall have to learn.”

After ten blissful minutes had passed like this, they heard Elnath and Patrice enter the sitting area with two other people whose voices Willa did not recognize. It soon became apparent these were Patrice’s parents.

“If we wait long enough, maybe they will leave.” Septimus whispered to Willa, even though her Dampening charm was still in effect.

They waited, content to lie in each other’s arms longer, but it soon became obvious from the conversation that they had just opened a bottle of wine to share as they got to know Elnath better.

Septimus sighed and said quietly, “I should return to my children. I imagine they have woken up by now. I promised Quintus I would be there to see off Charlotte when she leaves on the early carriages. He wants the Averys to feel welcomed. Given Octavia’s reaction to their engagement, I see his point.”

“Oh, about Catherine.” Willa said.

Septimus eyed her.

“She knows about us. She told me today. She says she has not told anyone, but I worry she will not keep this secret from Quintus for long.” Willa explained.

“We can tell them tomorrow in England. You are staying with the Blacks, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I will invite you over and then we will tell Quintus and Octavia together. Is that all right?”

Willa’s heart beat faster as she nodded.

“It will be nice to not have to hide our affection any longer.” Septimus said and kissed her warmly.

Willa kissed him back but felt too nervous to relax into it. What if his children did not approve of their relationship? Surely he would side with their wishes over her. Everything could end tomorrow.

Septimus sensed her anxiety. He pulled her closer and whispered, “Willa, I have never felt the way I feel about you before. You have restored me. I love you more deeply than I ever knew possible and nothing and no one will change how I feel.”

Willa blinked away newly formed tears and whispered back, “Septimus, you are my world. I cannot lose you.”

“You never will.” He said.

Willa smiled against his chest, finally confident that tomorrow would not impact their relationship negatively.

“I should come with you now. My bedroom door cannot merely open on its own without raising suspicions.” she said finally.

“Very true,” Septimus laughed lightly.

Reluctantly they rose and dressed, exchanging kisses throughout the process until Septimus cast the Disillusionment charm again on himself and Willa triple checked her reflection to ensure it did not look like she had just been with a man.

They exited her bedroom in tandem and she smiled warmly at Elnath and her company.

“I have just come from a nap.” Willa lied in French. “These must be your parents, Patrice?”

“Yes, they are.” Patrice said, then introduced them.

Elnath gave her a proud look, as if she was making some sort of critical relationship progress, and Willa winked at her once Patrice’s parents had looked away.

“Well, I will leave you to enjoy your wine. Have a nice afternoon and Happy Christmas!” Willa said, moving quickly for the stairwell after giving a polite curtsy and listening to their Christmas tidings returned.

Willa thought they had escaped when they reached the hallway, but it was there she ran into Hélène.

“You look positively glowing!” Hélène said to her with a giggle, clearly unable to see Septimus based on her lack of reaction to him.

“It is Christmas.” Willa shrugged, not bothering to hide her smile.

“True. All the parents are here though, it is making everything so formal.” Hélène frowned. “I am glad my father is not coming. He did not want me to miss the Yule Ball, but my eldest brother’s wife just had a baby so everyone is spending it with them.”

“Oh, that will be fun for them.” Willa said.

“Are your parents coming?” Hélène asked, her eyes lighting up.

“No, they are still in America.” Willa shrugged. “I feel the same as you about that though.”

“I am sure.” Hélène nodded knowingly. Her face shifted into its gossip expression as she leaned closer to say in a hushed tone, “Did you see Septimus Malfoy is here? He brought his daughter. She is much prettier than Quintus.”

“Yes, I saw them earlier.” Willa said, fighting a laugh as Septimus stroked her back. “Octavia has certainly matured since I last saw her at Hogwarts.”

“It looks good on her.” Hélène said playfully.

“My cousin Rigel tells me she and her two best friends basically run the school now.” Willa continued.

“Female best friends?” Hélène asked suggestively.

Willa wondered if Septimus was prepared to witness this conversation or not, but continued regardless, “Yes, Josephina Flint and Abigail Greengrass. In October, though, she was very keen on Braxton.”

“Well that certainly complicates things.” Hélène said, still smiling.

“Hopefully you have not forgotten what I said about Braxton when we first met?” Willa pressed.

“I will not hurt him. He does not mind sharing me anyway.” Hélène grinned. “Octavia though…Hogwarts is certainly looking even better a prospect than before. She shares her father’s elegance.”

Willa laughed easily and then shifted her stance saying, “Speaking of, Mr. Malfoy asked me to meet him for lunch. Ministry stuff. That is where I am headed, actually”

“You are lucky. He looks even handsomer than when we last saw him in November. Full of life. As though he has fallen in love or something.” Hélène gave a wispy moan and kissed Willa on the cheek softly, “A bit like you look right now, actually.”

“I should go. He is expecting me.” Willa said. “Oh, actually can you do me a favor and let Braxton know Mr. Malfoy is here. He will appreciate the warning, I am sure.”

“Of course, he is meeting me shortly.” She parted her lips with her tongue _lasciviously_.

“The Fleurys are in there with Elnath and Patrice.” Willa nodded towards their tower.

Hélène groaned.

“Disillusionment charm?” Willa suggested with a giggle as Septimus pinched her playfully.

“Smart idea.” Hélène nodded, then headed for the butterfly painting, “See you later.”

Willa rounded the corner out of sight and ducked into the empty Transfiguration classroom so Septimus could become visible without anyone watching. She cast a Revealing charm to check they were alone. Once it was confirmed, Septimus undid his Disillusionment charm.

“Well that was interesting.” He laughed.

“Never a dull moment with Hélène.”

“So, I think I have a lunch meeting I have to get to. Ministry stuff.” Septimus said with a sly smile, moving his arms around Willa’s waist.

“I am sure you can be a little late.” Willa smiled, placing her arms over his shoulders.

“Yes, I do not think she will mind.” He said, leaning down to kiss her.

In time they remembered he needed to go check in with his children and arranged to meet in the dining hall, finally departing the classroom at separate times after one last kiss.


	25. The Yule Ball

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. Many of the parents left when the younger students boarded their carriages, leaving the school at about a quarter of its usual population. Presently Willa and her roommates met their escorts by the back stairwell to go down for the Yule Ball. All four boys looked dashing in their dress robes. Bertok and Xabier both dressed specific to their countries’ customs. Xabi’s elaborate gold and white complemented Penelope’s deep red dress well, whereas Bertok’s vivid yellow and black robes clashed somewhat with Willa’s deep purple gown. She did not mind however, because Septimus promised to wear something that would complement her gown. Braxton and Patrice were more conventionally dressed in black dress robes of a modern cut, which suited Hélène’s bosom-bearing gold gown and Elnath’s more modest sapphire blue one.

The group exchanged praises for each other’s appearances and proceeded to the banquet hall. The hall was transformed into a splendor of ice, holly and ivy, barely recognizable other than its checkered marble floor. All eyes turned to the eight of them and Willa immediately found Septimus in the crowd. He stood beside Artemisia and Vincent, Octavia having chosen to stand elsewhere with her brother, Catherine, and Bastien Saint-Claude who did not appear to have a date. Septimus wore tailored black dress robes with accents of gold silk and Willa smiled as she recognized together they would look like royalty.

For the moment however, she was paired with Bertok. The music for a minuet began and the three Champions and Penelope began the entry to the showy dance. It was not one that found popularity in England, however the Americas took to it a few years ago. Based on his confidence, Willa surmised Bertok knew it well, and her assumption was rewarded as he took her hand in the dance’s most intimate and complicated portion and they began to gracefully glide across the floor in perfect time.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He said with a warm smile.

“Thank _you_ for coming with _me_.” She laughed.

For not having practiced together, they partnered quite well and did not lose time once as they completed the minuet’s first segment. Headmistress Lestrange and Headmaster Kolvargson began to dance, signaling that others now could join for the final segments of the dance. Several pairs entered the dance floor, and Willa and Bertok both relaxed, the pressure of an audience no longer so daunting.

Finally the music came to a close and everyone applauded. There was an intentional break between songs so Headmistress Lestrange could formally welcome everyone to the Yule Ball and thank them for attending. Then she gave the musicians a look and they started up an allemande. A delighted noise came from the crowd as everyone recognized the mid-century song. A dash of people entered the dancefloor and Willa was about to ask Bertok if he wished to dance again when she saw his eyes were on someone behind her. She turned to find Septimus had approached.

“Forgive me, Mr. Grindelwald,” Septimus said with a pleasant formality. “It is customary for the Ministry official to entertain the Hogwarts Champion as appropriate. Since this is a ball, I must ask Miss Gamp if she wishes to dance with me.”

“Not to worry, Mr. Malfoy,” Bertok said in English. “Miss Gamp and I are here as friends, for we both have attachments to someone elsewhere.”

“Ah, yes, this makes sense.” Septimus nodded and smiled at Willa, extending his hand as he asked, “Miss Gamp, may I have this dance?”

Willa smiled and took his hand, “You may, sir.”

Bertok bowed to them both and left the dancefloor. Septimus cast praeligo and moved them further into the floor, to one of the many sets that had formed. They took their places in the set and the musicians repeated the first part of the song again so the many newcomers could start on time.

“This song reminds me of my parents.” Septimus laughed as they began to dance.

“It is rather old.” Willa smirked.

“What is it you once told me… music is the great equalizer?”

“In its measured symmetry.” Willa said.

His lips curved into an intimate smile, one he never had used with her in public before, and Willa’s heart raced.

They spun together as the dance required and when their bodies were as close as they would get he said softly, “You are more beautiful than music, Willa. You exude the essence of an empress tonight.”

“And you present as my equal.” She replied with adoration.

They danced the remainder in a contented silence, their bodies and eyes conveying their emotions better than words ever could. As the final notes played out, they stood looking into each other and Willa willed the music not to end.

“I wish I could kiss you now.” She said.

“Yes, me too.” He smiled.

“Ask me to dance again tonight, please.” Willa said as Septimus began to lead her off the floor.

“It will be my privilege.” He grinned. “Though I would dance every number with you if I could.”

“As would I.” Willa said.

Septimus undid the Dampening spell before he deposited her next to Bertok. He masked all his reluctance to release her from his grasp as he thanked the Hungarian boy for allowing him a dance with her. He then turned to Willa to formally close out their interaction.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Gamp.” He said with a polite nod.

“Not at all, sir. It was a pleasure.”

“Enjoy your evenings.” He nodded to them and left the pair of Champions.

Once he was gone, Bertok said, “I need a drink. Would you like anything?”

“Please,” Willa nodded, letting out a long breath to release the flutter of nerves Septimus still managed to give her with just a look.

She went with him in search of a drink waiter, watching the dancefloor crowd again for the next song. Their friends were all dancing and Willa noticed Octavia danced with Bastien. She knew he would be at Hogwarts due to his lack of pureblood status and laughed to herself that Hélène would have some competition. Not that she thought Octavia interested in girls.

They found some champagne and watched another few dances before deciding to dance again themselves. After that, Bertok asked if she wanted more to drink and she said yes, their recent dance of the highly spirited passacaille having left her parched.

Once Bertok left to fetch them more champagne, Willa felt someone approach her from behind with a familiarity. He leaned near her ear to softly say, “I hardly recognized you.”

A chill crept down her spine as she recognized it to be her father’s voice. Septimus came into view across the room from her and their eyes met in a cold understanding as Ardan continued into her ear, “It seems everything about you has changed in the mere months we have been apart.”

Willa put on the charming smile he taught her and turned to face him, “Perhaps, father, you simply never truly looked at me before?”

The two bowed their heads to one another as Ardan’s face drew into the same charming smile.

When he said nothing further, she pressed for more information, “What a surprise that you are here! Has my mother come, too?”

“No, she continued on to Dublin with our things.” He said.

“You are moving back to Ireland? Have you received work there?” Willa asked in an even, polite tone. Inside she panicked. _Why would they move back to Ireland now? What did this have to do with her statements at the French Ministry? How much did they know about her and Septimus?_

Ardan stared into Willa a long moment unable to make his legilimency work on her now. She had grown too strong. Finally he abandoned his efforts and his false smile brightened to a real one as he said, “An opportunity presented itself, so I decided to seize it.”

“I see.” Willa nodded, uncertain how to read into the statement.

“I do not understand why you would be surprised I am here, however, as all the students’ parents were invited. I did think we might see Castor Black or Reginald Avery. I noticed Septimus Malfoy managed to attend in support of his son.” Ardan continued with ease, as if Septimus had not banished him from England.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Lufkin are in France to represent the British Ministry.” Willa replied with the same ease. “I am surprised she has not come to find you yet. She is quite fond of you.”

“I imagine she is, seeing as I built her career.” He replied, weighing the flattery for its intention after he responded. “I am curious, of course, which of the two convinced you to say what you did at the French Ministry?”

“Mrs. Lufkin, of course.” Willa smiled fully this time for effect. “She snuck me into the Muggle’s National Convention to show me what the political situation of Muggle France truly is, and it was very convincing. I felt compelled to speak to what I witnessed in the Americas. With all your efforts in the Americas, I felt confident you would understand.”

“I see.” Ardan said. Clearly not agreeing with any of it deep down, he added, “I understand completely.”

“I should go find my escort for the ball.” Willa said with a polite curtsy.

“Ah, but here he comes now.” Ardan said easily before giving her a challenging smirk.

Willa turned to find Septimus approached them. She could not stifle her laugh, despite her best efforts, and Septimus flashed her a winning smile.

She turned back to her father and asked, “Why should you allude that Mr. Malfoy is my escort?”

“Oh, I think you and your snow basilisk know why, my dear child.” Ardan said, a saccharine smile in place as he braced for Septimus’ arrival.

Willa swallowed. He had been there all day then, watching her. Her hatred for him built more than ever before and she dropped her false smile as she said, “I am seventeen now, father. No longer a child.”

As she said it, she could feel the warmth of Septimus’ body heat as he arrived and stood rather close to her.

“Good evening, Miss Gamp.” he said, ignoring every social protocol of Britain, France, and America that required him to approach her father first. She turned to face him.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.” Willa replied, her fingers reaching into her sleeve to release the catch holding her wand in place. It slid into her palm and she waited for the men to make their next move before she did anything brash.

“Might I have the next dance?” Septimus asked her, extending his hand for her to take.

Ardan moved himself between them and looked at Willa harshly as he whispered, “We forbade you.”

“As I stated before, I am no longer a child.” Willa replied in an even tone.

“Ah yes, no longer my responsibility then.” Ardan said, falling back into a smile, but not budging an inch except to lean quite close to her face and say, “Good luck making your way in this world without my money.”

Willa smiled at him and moved closer to his face, speaking into his ear at a volume Septimus could hear, “The interesting thing about Goblins is that they only honor contracts executed by legally capable wizards within the country their bank is located. Seeing as you lack legal standing in England, father, even if you manage to reenter the country without dying, it will be quite impossible for you to execute a change to your living will and estate.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek and stepped around him to take Septimus’ hand. Her wand pressed into his palm, as she had no time to return it to the catch, but he made no visible reaction.

“Yes, you may have the next dance.” She said, meeting his pale blues eyes with a willing smile.

Ardan turned to face them before they could leave his presence and said, “Enjoy yourselves tonight. Time is ever fleeting.”

“Oh, Ardan, do not worry yourself.” Septimus said before looking down to Willa, who continued to smile back at him as he said, “We will.”

He led Willa to the center of the ballroom floor and cast praeligo. The couples were clearly prepared for a waltz. The choice of this Austrian folk dance after so many noble dances was less shocking given how many Muggle-born students remained from Austrian lands, where the Muggle warfare continued.

“Is your wand back in place?” Septimus asked as he turned to face her so they could assume the start position of the waltz.

“Yes,” Willa said as she clicked it into the catch.

“I would never attack him here. You must know that?” Septimus said as he took her right hand into his left and placed his right hand on her back more tenderly than most partners would.

“I am not worried about you attacking _him_.” Willa said. “You have never used an Unforgiveable Curse on me, and he has freely used two.”

Their eyes met and she could see he felt guilt for allowing Ardan to live and thus torture her and her family.

“Do not pity me tonight. I need you alert.” She said with haste.

Septimus nodded and then the music began.

“He says he and my mother are moving back to Ireland. That an opportunity presented itself.” Willa explained.

“That sounds…” Septimus trailed off, unable to identify the right word. There was no attractive opening in Ireland that he knew of at the moment.

“Ominous?” Willa suggested.

“Possibly, yes.”

“I am worried for you. I think you should leave.” Willa said.

“I will not run from Ardan Gamp. It is he who should run from me.” Septimus said.

Willa stopped dancing to look at him and say harshly, “And if your pride gets you killed, where does that leave me?”

“He will not try anything here.” Septimus said. His voice wavered though.

“You are uncertain, even now. It is not worth the risk.” Willa said.

“I brought Vincent with me. Besides, I will not leave you unprotected.” Septimus replied, forcing her into the next step of the dance so they would not continue to call attention to themselves.

“I can protect myself.”

“You know I mean no insult, but no, you are not powerful enough to defend yourself against Ardan.” Septimus said.

“I know him better than anyone. The things he has made me do…” Willa trailed off, unable to finish the sentence due to its memories.

Septimus had no response for this. They danced in silence until Willa noticed Ardan was dancing with Artemisia.

“You will need to check on her after this dance.” She noted.

Septimus nodded but said, “I should never have convinced her to come.”

“Stop. Neither of us could have expected he would show up.”

“Still, I wish I was better at predicting his behavior after all this time.” Septimus sighed.

“And I wish we could be alone, away from all of this.” Willa said wistfully.

“You speak of paradise.” Septimus smiled.

He spun her around, Willa finishing out close to him as this final move required. She whispered out, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Septimus whispered as well.

He led her from the floor and removed the Dampening charm before they reached Bertok, who stood alone with two glasses of champagne in hand. She thanked Septimus for the dance, and he left to warn Vincent about Ardan’s presence and clear knowledge of his and Willa’s relationship before seeking out Artemisia.

Once he was gone, Bertok handed Willa one of the champagne flutes and said, “Is Mr. Malfoy all right? He looks much more rattled than earlier, as though he has seen a ghost.”

Willa sipped some champagne and said, “I suppose in a way he has. Someone from his past has turned up here unexpectedly.”

“An enemy?” Bertok asked.

“Something like that.” Willa laughed humorously and drank more champagne.

As the bubbles hit her throat, Hélène and Braxton approached them, physically very close to one another.

“Mr. Malfoy seems quite keen on you. Two dances already? Your lunch date must have gone well.” Hélène joked to Willa, who wished she had said nothing of the sort as Braxton’s body language turned very cold at the remark. The last thing she needed to deal with tonight was Braxton’s emotions.

“He is trying to woo me away from Artemisia Lufkin politically.” Willa said with a bored tone and motioned to the dance floor. “I advised him to spend his charms on her instead.”

Hélène and Braxton turned to see Septimus now danced with Artemisia.

“How are you two enjoying the evening?” Bertok asked brightly.

“Rather well so far.” Hélène smiled at Braxton who leaned down to kiss her with such gusto Willa had to look away. Thankfully Bertok was equally uncomfortable with this display of affection and the two shared a laugh.

“We can leave you alone.” Bertok said after the kiss went on longer than a few seconds.

This prompted Braxton to pull away and apologize, adding, “It is just so hard not to kiss the person you love for all the world to see.”

“On the contrary, if Hildegard were here, I would not put her on such display and risk her reputation.” Bertok said.

Hélène laughed, “Are you saying mine and Braxton’s reputations are rather risqué?”

“Yes, from what we hear most nights.” Bertok said and shared a playful look with Willa.

Willa grinned and drank some champagne.

“Who is that man speaking with your cousin? He is the same one who was with you earlier, yes?” Bertok asked Willa after a moment.

She followed his gaze to find her father speaking animatedly with Elnath and Patrice. Penelope and Xabi were beside them laughing along at Ardan’s story.

“Oh, that is my father, Elnath’s uncle.” Willa said simply.

“Your father is here?” Braxton asked with alarm.

“Ardan Gamp is here?” Hélène gushed.

Willa drank more champagne and nodded to Hélène with a forced smile. The girl spun to look for him, her deep brown eyes wide.

While she was turned away, Braxton looked at Willa with concern.

“I must meet him. You must introduce me!” Hélène urged.

Willa wanted to not speak to Ardan for the remainder of the night; the remainder of her life, if truth be told, but there was no logical reason to deny Hélène an introduction. Plus she wished to save her cousin from his schemes, whatever they might be. To see Willa could not be the reason he was there.

“Yes, I know how you dote on him. Come on.” Willa said.

The four of them reached the other group and Elnath gave her cousin a meaningful look, moving to take her hands into her own as she arrived.

“I am glad to see you!” Elnath said brightly, clearly grateful to be saved from her uncle she barely knew, but no longer trusted based on Willa’s accounts of his treatment of Ciaran.

“Yes, Hélène wished to meet my father.” Willa replied, then looked to Ardan and said, “Father, may I present my roommate here, Mlle. Hélène Lestrange.”

When Ardan turned to their group to greet Hélène, his expression changed abruptly and he lost most of the color in his face.

“Braxton?” Ardan managed through his suddenly dry throat.

No one said a word, all too shocked that Mr. Gamp knew Braxton’s name. Then Ardan did something Willa never would have expected him to do. He reached out to touch one of Braxton’s curls, pulling the lock through his fingers until it straightened. Braxton stepped backwards from him with haste.

There were several silent seconds before Ardan seemed to come back into himself, shaking his head and smiling as he said, “I am so sorry, of course you would not remember me. You were too young. I doubt Willa remembers meeting your family either. We came for your sister’s birth. You both must have been three then.”

“Why would you know my family?” Braxton asked, his voice strained as he looked between Ardan and Willa. She shook her head, equally confused.

“I know your mother, Miranda Borgin, er, Bagshot.” He said, smiling at his mistaken use of her maiden name. “Forgive me, you look so exceptionally like her, it took me off guard.”

“How do you know my mother?”

“From Hogwarts, of course. She and I were friends, just as Mrs. Gamp and your father were friends.” Ardan said simply. His expression grew grim as he added, “What happened to your family was an absolute tragedy.”

“Father, not here.” Willa urged. No one except the Hogwarts delegates knew about this, which she knew was something Braxton prized.

“No, _you_ will not interrupt me about _this_ , ungrateful child.” Ardan said harshly to Willa, his black eyes bore into her and she shrank, letting out a shaky breath as she braced for a Cruciatus Curse that never came. Then she noticed something in his eyes that typically was not there—pain. Her father felt pain. She did not know this was possible.

He looked back to Braxton and continued in the grim tone he spoke in before yelling at Willa, “Braxton, I need you to know that if I had not been in America, your sister Bethany would still be alive.”

Braxton was beginning to shake. This topic had not come up publicly in two full months and he had lost his ability to handle it calmly. He wanted to punch Mr. Gamp in the throat to shut him up, but then Ardan continued and what he said changed Braxton’s opinion of the man entirely.

“And I promise you, son, if I had been the one to defend your mother in court and not that incompetent waste of human being, Septimus Malfoy,” Ardan’s voice had risen at this point, calling attention from several nearby groups of students. He took notice and lowered his voice down to tightened, angry hiss as he finished, “Then Miranda would be free right now just as my Wilhelmina is after I defended her in MACUSA’s court.”

Braxton’s body language relaxed, glad to finally hear someone in power agree with him. Willa looked at the ceiling’s floating crystal chandeliers, fighting tears of frustration. She wanted to scream out the truth. Ardan Gamp murdered innumerable Muggles. Murdered them for fun. Murdered Minister Crowdy. Braxton knew her father tortured her and forced her to torture her own mother, and still he sided with him now. It was incomprehensible.

“Cousin, come and get a refill with me.” Elnath said softly, grasping Willa’s elbow and yanking her away from the group. She led her through the glass doors onto the marble patio that opened out into the gardens and Flamel Fountain. A charm kept this small area warm as if they were indoors and not the icy night.

“Why did he come here? Why would Braxton side with him?” Willa said.

“I do not know.” Elnath shook her head, then looked at Willa and asked in a quiet, tentative voice, “You once told me that he would hurt Ciaran. Did you not tell me the entire truth then? Did he hurt you as well?”

Willa pressed her lips together, tears beginning to fall freely from her eyes. She nodded.

“Oh Willa,” Elnath breathed, pulling her into a tight hug.

Quintus came onto the patio a few moments later, but only Willa could see him as Elnath faced away. He looked uncertain if he should speak or not, but then his expression changed to fear. He appeared to be straining to hear something, but there was no noise other than Flamel Fountain’s soft gushing and the rumble of chatter from the ballroom.

“We need to get inside, right now.” Quintus said, his face hard.

For how much Willa knew Elnath to still hate Quintus, she apparently trusted him in equal parts, because she gripped onto Willa and hurried them inside after him. They wondered what Quintus had been worried about, the ballroom looked identical to when they had left it except that more people were dancing as a new song had begun. Xabi danced with Penelope of course, Bertok danced with a Beauxbatons girl, Catherine with Vincent, and, most peculiarly, Hélène danced with Ardan.

“There is Patrice.” Elnath said, and Willa looked to find Patrice stood with Braxton watching the dancefloor.

It was as soon as Elnath started towards him that the gale rushed into the ballroom, slamming shut the doors that led to the patio where they had just stood. The glass shattered from the doors and matching windows, showering down in shards over the crowd. Screams went up and people ran to avoid it.

“ _Reducio_!” Quintus cast directly overhead himself and the two cousins as the three ducked instinctively.

His spell shrunk the glass shards to sand.

“ _Protego_!” Willa cast to shield them.

She and Quintus looked at each other with a nod of gratitude while Patrice ran towards them crying, “Elnath!”

Another gale began inside the room though this was impossible. It continued ferociously gathering into something akin to a tornado as the room went into a full panic.

“Everyone to the carriages now!” Headmistress Lestrange boomed out over the roar with the aid of the Sonorous charm.

Patrice lifted Elnath off the ground and began to run with her in his arms. Quintus was pulling Willa to her feet, saying, “Get to the carriages!”

But Willa was searching for Septimus.

“Get to the carriages!” Quintus repeated, shoving her towards the exit. In the next breath he yelled, “Father, please, go! I will find Octavia.”

Willa followed his shouting to find Septimus on the far side of the room being backed into a corner by two twisters converging on him, as if they were being controlled and he was their target. Willa lost her breath as she spun around to look for her father, who surely was the source of this. The visibility was poor among the flying debris, but no one who looked like Ardan remained. In fact, most people were gone from the ballroom entirely. She looked back to Septimus, still being cornered by the now large, single tornado, and saw he did not have his wand.

“Get out of here!” Septimus yelled, and Willa could not tell if it was meant for her or Quintus. She could not leave him in such a situation however and changed her direction towards the worst of the indoor storm. She cast a Shield charm on Septimus then concentrated her mind on elemental magic to calm the winds. Nothing she tried seemed to be working, and she realized the tornados were a result of dark magic. The only way to stop them would be to stop the caster.

“Quintus!” a voice screamed from behind her. _Catherine._ There was a pop and she turned to find neither Catherine nor Quintus was there. Willa knew they must have disapparated, but could not understand how that was possible on school grounds. Had the protection been lifted for the Yule Ball? It seemed unwise.

Braxton was calling, “Hélène! Hélène!” through the noise and Willa turned to find he was right behind her. His face lit up when he saw her, a face he recognized and trusted. “Have you seen Hélène?”

“No, she was with my father and he is gone.” Willa yelled.

“We have to go!” he then yelled, grabbing onto Willa and attempting to move her towards the exit.

“I cannot leave him!” Willa jerked her head towards Septimus.

He was about to say something to her when the ballroom turned pitch black and the wind ceased. Everything went eerily silent.

“Do not let go of me.” Willa whispered coarsely, shaking in fear.

“I will not.” Braxton said, pulling her closer to his own trembling body.

The light returned to the room, even brighter than it had been before the chaos had begun. Willa and Braxton blinked into it to find the ballroom in shambles. Large chunks of debris littered the ground. Water pooled from melting ice sculptures and the festive greenery lay scattered in filthy heaps. They turned to see a masked wizard now stood before Septimus with Octavia in hand, a wand pressed to her temple.

Willa immediately drew her wand as did Braxton. They glanced at one another long enough to enter each other’s minds, so they could communicate without speaking.

 _Search to your right._ Willa thought to him and searched to her left. No one was there.

 _No one to the right either._ Braxton thought.

They focused back on the scene at hand as Septimus slowly walked towards the masked wizard and Octavia, his hands out to show he did not hold his wand.

“Let the girl go.” He said calmly in French.

Willa and Braxton started to move in on the masked wizard from behind, slow and steady, wands at the ready. Septimus continued towards Octavia, one step at a time, talking to try and keep the wizard focused away from Willa and Braxton.

“Your quarrel is with me. Release her and take me instead.” Septimus said, giving a soothing smile to the masked man.

“Septimus Malfoy, you still think you are in charge here. Here in France, where you do not belong.” the masked wizard cooed in French. They all recognized the man’s voice as M. Droit.

“I am leaving France tonight, Purcell. The Ministry requires me back in England.” Septimus said.

“You will not be leaving France tonight, Septimus.” M. Droit said simply.

Willa and Braxton mentally readied to disarm him.

“Look at your daughter.” M. Droit continued, pulling the mask from his face. “Tell her that she will be all right. Lie to her, please. Tell her you will save her like you tell everyone else you claim to love.”

Braxton’s thoughts darkened towards Septimus at this comment, and Willa mentally reminded him to remain focused. Octavia was shaking, unable to speak. As Septimus looked at her his features softened.

“I will not lie to you, my daughter.” He said and then finally looked at Willa.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Willa and Braxton cast at the same time.

Purcell spun to face them, wordlessly countering their spell in a red stream of light. Their wands combined streams as their unicorn mane cores began to bond. Willa had never felt power like this, not even on the Quidditch pitch in September when they last saved Octavia’s life. She was so overcome with it that she did not notice the other masked wizards apparate into the hall.

“ _Confringo_!” was the last thing she heard before flying across the room. The Blasting curse had hit the ground in front of her and Braxton, but the power was enough to send them some ten meters backwards.

Her vision went black, but she could still hear every sound. There were more pops of apparation and then a woman asked in French, “Should we finish her off? The boy appears dead.”

“NO!” Septimus cried. Willa’s heart raced as she realized the woman had been speaking about her and Braxton.

“As much as I would love to see Malfoy suffer more than he is going to, our orders were specific.” M. Droit said. She wondered who was giving him orders since M. Droit was the Anti-Moldus leader.

“We can deposit Lufkin by them when we leave.” Another person suggested.

“What about his son?” someone else said.

“That half-breed Saint-Just got him out.” The woman from before growled.

“When we are done here, we will find Quintus Malfoy and finish the job. You all have your tasks. See to them.” M. Droit said, then cursed, “ _Imperio_!”

A moment later, Willa’s vision finally returned. She saw Braxton was next to her and did indeed look dead. She subtly checked his pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she found one.

The number of masked wizards had grown to at least thirty. She realized it was safer to stay on the ground and not call attention to herself. She slowly angled herself so she could see Septimus, who had been forced to his knees by two masked wizards.

Octavia stood before him, her expression placid due to the Imperius Curse M. Droit had just put on her.

“Your father murdered your brother and attacked the school to get rid of the evidence.” M. Droit said to her softly in English. He handed Octavia her wand and ordered, “Kill him.”

Septimus looked up at her and Willa could tell he was using legilimency to try and fight for control of her mind. Octavia’s hand trembled violently as she pointed her wand at him. Whatever Septimus was trying to do, Willa could see in his eyes that it was not working. She noticed her own wand on the floor and summoned it to herself silently. She stayed on the ground, aiming at M. Droit. Her father’s words from childhood raced through her head, “It is unforgivable because you have to mean it for it to work.” She imagined Septimus dead; cold in her arms with his eyes open.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” she cursed.

A rush of green light shot from her wand and hit M. Droit square on the chest. He fell dead and Octavia blinked, dropping her wand in horror. In the room’s resulting shock, Septimus was able to shake off the two wizards long enough to grab the wand and Octavia’s hand, whisper something, and disapparate with her.

The group of wizards now approached Willa and she reached out to grab Braxton’s arm and disapparated them to the gazebo beside Flamel Fountain, out of sight of the ballroom, to buy herself a minute to think. Her entire wand arm reeled in pain from the dark magic, pressing into her chest like a stranglehold, but she had to focus.

_What did he whisper?_

Then it hit her, the password to his _hôtel particuleur_.

She looked down at Braxton and found the snow around him grew steadily red with his blood. He was seriously injured. Next to his body, though, was a figure. Willa gasped and quickly grabbed Braxton, ready to disapparate when she realized it was Artemisia.

She stared at Willa with a terrified expression on her tear-streamed face, and Willa noticed she clutched tightly to a wand as if she had been commanded to do so. It was Septimus’ wand.

“Help me.” Artemisia whispered.

“Hold onto me.”

Artemisia did, and still holding Braxton, Willa whispered, “ _Moroun rouge_.”

The next moment she, Braxton and Artemisia were on the floor of Septimus’ Paris dressing room, Octavia’s loud sobs filling the air.


	26. Escape to England

“Help! We need help!” Willa cried, then she proceeded to vomit without warning. It went all over the front of her and she was coughing madly to not choke on it. Her right arm was so full of pain she could not move it, and she struggled to push herself up with her left arm, which was caught under Braxton’s body.

“ _Evanesco_!” a female voice cast to vanish the bile. She helped free her arm and sit her upright. Willa saw it was Catherine as she shoved a glass of water in her hand. “Drink this. It is water.”

Catherine then gave Artemisia a second glass of water and said in French, “M. Saint-Just, please come here.”

Willa drank some water and swallowed, able to breathe well again she urged, “Braxton is very hurt!”

“I will need Essence of Dittany for the splinch wound before I can address anything else. Father, do you have yours with you?” Quintus was saying as he hovered over Braxton’s body with a furrowed brow.

He ripped off the dress robe fabric from around the largest wound and nodded at Catherine who quickly cast, “ _Accio_ _Essence of Dittany_.”

She caught the bottle that flew to her and opened it, looking expectantly at Quintus, who eyed a particularly nasty gash that he was holding apart, and said, “Right here. Four drops evenly spaced along the center of it.”

The gash closed almost instantly and Quintus said, “Yes, that is all we need of it.”

Catherine banished the bottle back where it came from and Willa followed it to find that it landed gently in Septimus’ lap. Octavia was buried in his chest, encased in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Artemisia, are you hurt?” Vincent asked as he knelt down in front of them.

“Vincent, help me.” Artemisia said, staring at him with wide eyes as she gripped Septimus’ wand.

Vincent looked at Willa who responded, “I found her like this in the gazebo behind Flamel Fountain. I apparated there to avoid being killed by the remaining Anti-Moldus. They were the Anti-Moldus, right?”

Vincent nodded and looked back to Artemisia, “How can I help you, Artemisia?”

“Catherine, go take Octavia from my father.” Quintus ordered.

A second later Artemisia said, “I do not remember what happened.”

“What is the last thing you remember?” Vincent asked her.

She stared at him blankly, Catherine pushing past them as Octavia began to sob loudly again.

“She is in shock.” Vincent announced, starting to stand.

“Willa, are you hurt?” Septimus asked, arriving at her side now that Catherine had freed him of Octavia.

Willa looked at him, the pain in her arm so fierce she worried she might vomit again.

“Willa?” Septimus asked quietly.

“I killed M. Droit.” Willa said into the air, looking away at the wall into nothing.

“No, no,” Septimus said, cupping her face in his hands so she would be forced to look at him. “You saved mine and Octavia’s lives.”

“Father, I need something for bandages. Do you have clean bed sheets?” Quintus said.

“Yes,” Septimus replied. “Willa, come help me.”

He lifted her gently to her feet and helped her walk through the door to his bedroom. As soon as they were inside with the door closed, he pulled her flush to his chest.

“I am so sorry I did this to you.” He said quietly. “I should have listened to you and left once Ardan arrived. I am so sorry.”

Willa relaxed into his chest, which was damp with Octavia’s tears, and said, “I was not going to let you die.”

“I feel horrible for leaving you there. I did not know how to get to you though.” He whispered.

“I am glad you did. Otherwise we would both be dead.” Willa said.

They looked at one another then, both blinking back tears, and their mouths found each other in a desperate kiss. Septimus stroked her arm and Willa winced loudly. He pulled away immediately.

“I do not remember this from the last time I used the Killing Curse.” Willa said. “I would remember this pain.”

“How do you mean?” Septimus frowned.

“When I killed Opala and Ciaran, it was not like this.” she said.

Septimus nodded, even though she had never once mentioned Opala before. The MACUSA court reports he had looked up in August had not mentioned her either, and he realized Opala must have been a No-Maj. This whole time Willa had killed two people, not one like he thought.

“You remember doing it though?” he asked.

“Yes, like it just happened. It is burned into my memory like a brand.” She whispered. “But this is different. This feels… as though my heart is being constricted and my soul torn apart.”

Septimus nodded with empathy and said, “The physical pain will lessen in a day or so. With time and love you will heal. You have to find a way to forgive yourself.”

“How?” she whispered.

He shook his head and said, “I do not yet know.”

She nodded vaguely. That was why he had resurrected Lila, she realized. So that she would forgive him and he could stop feeling all this pain. Clearly, it had not worked. The idea of resurrecting Ciaran was too terrible to imagine. It was not a forgivable thing she had done to him and Opala.

Septimus held her close again, avoiding her right arm, and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She said, and somewhere inside her, close to her heart, she felt the pain push backwards and it became easier to breathe.

They stayed like that a long while before Willa murmured, “We should probably get the bedsheets now.”

Septimus laughed, having forgotten about them entirely. Willa laughed then as well, which felt good. They kissed again and then Septimus set across the room to a cupboard holding extra linens. Willa looked at the dark room, marveling at how different the situation had been the last time she was there.

He returned with the sheets and they reentered the dressing room to find Vincent waiting just on the other side of the inner door.

“We have a problem, Septimus.” He said quietly, holding up Septimus’ wand and casting “ _Priori Incantatem_ ” on it with his own wand.

A miniature tornado came from Septimus’ wand in a wispy silver.

“She cast it?” Willa asked quietly, looking past Vincent to Artemisia who now sat in a chair by the dress form looking completely dazed. Willa noticed Octavia was now asleep on the divan and Catherine sat beside Quintus on the floor while he continued to tend to Braxton’s wounds. Catherine silently summoned the bedsheets from Septimus with her wand as to not interrupt the conversation.

“When did you lose your wand?” Vincent asked.

Septimus shook his head, “I do not know. I did not realize it was gone until I went to use it against the gales.” He sighed and said, “I will read her mind.”

“I already have.” Vincent said. “She has been obliviated. She remembers doing the attacks but before that the last memory she has is arriving at Beauxbatons with me.”

“She remembers nothing else from tonight?” Septimus asked.

Vincent shook his head, “She could have been placed under the Imperius Curse at any point after that. I was not with her the entire time. Plus, she danced with several people.”

“Including Ardan and you.” Willa said to Septimus. She looked at Vincent, “Did she dance with any of the French parents or M. Droit?”

Vincent shook his head, “I was the only Frenchmen she was willing to dance with.”

“I think we all know my father cursed her. Then she must have taken your wand when she danced with you.” Willa said to Septimus. “You did not notice at all when your wand was missing?”

“No.” He said with annoyance at himself. “I was too focused on Ardan.”

“Of course. That is why he came. They brought him in as a decoy knowing it would throw you off.” Willa groaned.

“Where was he when the attacks began?” Quintus asked.

“The last I saw he was dancing with Hélène. She is not exactly opposed to the Anti-Moldus rhetoric and the first thing she ever told me was how much she adores Ardan.” Willa said.

“I trust Hélène. She is easy to read.” Catherine said. “It is her father and aunt I do not trust.”

“Yes, well, who here does?” Septimus said tightly. His expression softened some as he said to Catherine, “But your point is astute. Delphine would want to protect her niece. She and Ardan may have been working together.”

“If Delphine helped orchestrate the attack then this goes much deeper than we thought.” Vincent said nervously. “They will not stop looking for you here, Septimus, and Miss Gamp is far less safe here than you once word of M. Droit’s death goes out. Not to mention M. Bagshot’s injuries appear dire. You all need to get back to England before the border closes since you will have to travel under concealment.”

Septimus nodded, “What about you?”

“My fight is here.”

“You cannot take them to the Vendee. Where will you go?” Septimus said, referencing the Muggles they were currently hiding in the _hôtel particuleur_. He did not let him respond, “Bring them with us and we will integrate them into England. It is a small group, George will not mind. We can keep them in my Wiltshire estate until he approves a plan.”

“There is not time.” Vincent protested.

“There is if we move now.” Septimus said.

“And Artemisia?” Vincent asked.

“Once we cross the border, Septimus’ banishment spell will reveal if my father did this to her or not. We can deal with it then. Give her a sleeping draught for now in case she is under additional orders.” Willa said. She looked at Braxton's pale body and then back to Septimus. “We need to hurry.”

Septimus sprang into action, giving orders and gathering everything he would need permanently in England. He did not know when—or if—he would be able to return to France.

Twenty minutes later, their magically enlarged carriage set off for England under a full set of Concealment charms. Vincent rode on the lower level with the Muggle aristocrats who had been given sleeping draughts as well. On the top level, Artemisia and Octavia were secured and asleep in two beds. Braxton was in a third bed, Quintus beside him on a fourth bed with an assumed duty of care while Catherine lay curled up in Quintus’ lap with her eyes closed. Across from them, Willa sat beside Septimus, still in her Yule Ball gown, and wondering how she would ever be able to sleep again with so much pain in her arm and chest. Both the owl Septimus used with his children and the one he used with Willa rode caged on this level.

By the time they passed into England, only Willa and Septimus were awake. They both breathed out a sigh of relief that the border remained open, and Septimus redirected the abraxans northwest over the English Channel towards Malfoy Manor. He wrote a note to Byron Bagshot regarding Braxton’s condition and sent it from the carriage with his family owl.

An hour later they arrived at Malfoy Manor where Septimus prepared his house-elves for the Muggle visitors and then magically shut off the majority of his home from access. He and Willa helped Vincent wake the Muggles and usher them inside. The manor looked much different under Septimus’ spells, but Willa still glanced towards the direction of the wing where Lila was entrapped and shivered. Septimus pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head before whispering, “We need to get Braxton to St. Mungo’s.”

She nodded and they left Vincent with the Muggles and boarded the carriage. Quintus had woken up from the stop of movement and was looking over Braxton’s wounds to see if they needed redressing.

“We will be there shortly.” Septimus assured him.

“Good, because I do not know what else to do.” Quintus said, then added quietly, “He is dying.”

Willa fell into a seat at these words, tears forming in her eyes. Septimus commanded the abraxans to fly and she found enough energy to walk over to Braxton’s bed and kneel beside him.

“Stay with me, Brax.” She whispered to him, taking his hand into her own.

Quintus took Braxton’s other hand and looked at Willa with hopeful eyes.

“St. Mungo’s will know how to help him.” He said.

She nodded, wiping a stray tear as Septimus urged the abraxans to fly faster.

They arrived at St Mungo’s soon after and Willa felt helpless as she was still in too much pain to even magically help Septimus and Quintus move Braxton inside. Once he was checked in, the healers assessed him. To stabilize him they needed to administer a blood-making potion that would have to be delivered by another technique than orally as Braxton had faded into a comatose state and they could not risk forcing him awake. The healers offered for Quintus to watch this technique. They already had complimented his work to keep Braxton alive on the way there. Before leading Quintus into the room, the main healer assured Septimus that if his son was not so gifted then Braxton would be dead.

Willa took Septimus’ hand in the hallway while they waited and eventually the healing team and Quintus emerged. The couple released each other as the main healer delivered the news: Braxton was in a comatose state but stable for now. They did not know when or if he would wake up. The first forty-eight hours were the most critical. Septimus thanked her and her team and they left after explaining they could go in to see him.

Willa went straight to Braxton, pushing the loose dirty curls back out of his face. Septimus brought her a chair and she sat, beginning to cry. He could not die. Not now when they were finally close again. When she could have shielded the Blasting curse instead of losing focus. When she could have practiced apparation more so he would not have gotten splinched.

“Father, I am going to wake Catherine and send her home.” Quintus said quietly.

Septimus nodded vaguely, his face pale with lack of sleep and concern for Braxton. Quintus brought over another chair for him, placed it beside Willa, and left. Septimus slumped beside her, his hand went to her thigh to comfort her as he knew her right arm still hurt from the Killing Curse.

“This was not your fault.” He said after a long time.

“I know. I just...” Willa swallowed back new tears. “He just cannot die.”

Septimus kissed her temple. There was a light knock on the door and Septimus pulled his touch from Willa before Quintus reentered.

“Father, do you want me to wake Octavia?” He asked.

Septimus stood and shook his head. “I will do it. We cannot leave Artemisia alone, even asleep. Stay here with Miss Gamp while I speak with Mrs. Lufkin. But, and this is important,”

Both of them looked at him.

“Do not tell anyone she was with us.”

“Yes, sir.” Quintus said.

“What are you going to ask her? Should I not come?” Willa asked.

“I will interrogate her better alone.” Septimus said in a low, dark voice that Willa dared not argue with.

She nodded and turned back to Braxton. Septimus left and Quintus slid into the chair his father had been in before and took Braxton’s hand. Only five minutes later did Octavia enter the room, falling into her brother’s arms as he stood to embrace her. She settled on the other side of Braxton and began to speak to him. She thanked him for saving her life again and urged him to fight.

Thirty minutes later, Septimus returned. Willa caught his eye and he smiled at her and said, “Everything is fine. The person we thought is who cursed her, though I did not tell her that. She asked me to thank you for saving her life.”

Willa nodded and Septimus slid into the remaining chair across the room from Braxton’s bed. He leaned his head against the wall and rested his eyes.

* * *

“Byron, forgive me for sending you such a message at this hour.” Septimus said some twenty minutes later, standing as a man Willa assumed was Byron Bagshot entered the hospital room. In the man’s arms was a sleeping baby that Willa knew must be Bathilda.

Septimus embraced him with one arm as not to disturb the baby and Byron shifted her into the crook of his left arm so he could hug Septimus back. Octavia furrowed her brow and looked at Quintus with confusion. She did not realize her father knew Mr. Bagshot let alone was well enough acquainted with the man to hug him. Quintus merely shrugged.

Willa thought Mr. Bagshot looked older than Septimus but also noted his face hung with exhaustion, which perhaps aged him. She stood, intending to offer to relieve Braxton’s father of Bathilda, but quickly realized her right arm still hurt too much to possibly support any weight.

“Wilhelmina?” Mr. Bagshot said to her in a startled tone, much like when Ardan had first seen Braxton.

“Yes,” Willa said, managing a smile despite her emotions and pain and exhaustion.

In the next moment they both said at the same time, “Braxton has told me so much about you.”

They laughed lightly, and Mr. Bagshot’s gaze lingered on her a moment before he turned back to Septimus to ask, “How is he?”

“Not well, I am afraid.” Septimus said softly. “They are saying these first forty-eight hours are the most important.”

Byron nodded and then looked at Quintus and Octavia saying hello.

“I have not told them yet. I wanted your approval first.” Septimus said.

“We should tell them. They are old enough to understand.” Byron nodded. “And Wilhelmina?”

“She already knows.” Septimus said and Octavia’s expression darkened with jealousy.

“Tell us what?” Octavia asked.

Willa sat in Septimus’ chair and said, “I can take her, Mr. Bagshot.”

“Not her right arm,” Septimus said quietly to Byron as he placed Bathilda in her lap. The baby barely readjusted herself, clearly deep asleep. Septimus gave her an adoring smile then, facing away from the rest of them, and Willa realized with a small flutter he was envisioning her with their own future child.

“Tell us what?” Octavia repeated, her tone impatient.

Septimus spun to face her and then looked at Byron and cast, “ _Praelgio._ ”

“As you know, your father defended my wife, Miranda, this spring.” Byron began. The Malfoy children nodded. “I am sure this was confusing as our families do not seem to know one another.”

Byron stopped, unsure how to explain the next part delicately. These were not his own children after all.

“My father had an affair with Mrs. Borgin that produced a daughter.” Septimus said plainly. “Miranda is my half-sister and therefore Braxton and Bathilda are your cousins.”

“Braxton is my cousin?” Octavia gaped. Willa saw Quintus fought a laugh at this outburst and she had to stifle one herself.

“Yes. Admittedly, I should have explained this sooner to you especially.” Septimus said, locking eyes with his daughter who burned crimson as she realized he clearly knew that she liked Braxton romantically.

“In your father’s defense, no one can know. It would jeopardize Braxton’s inheritance as Mr. Borgin is ignorant to the fact and might disinherit Miranda should he learn of it. This is why your father had not told you and why I have not told Braxton yet.

“My father provided the information about Miranda’s true parentage in his will that only my touch could decipher. I only learned about the connection after he died.” Septimus explained.

“Father, that was eleven years ago.” Octavia bit out.

“I know.” Septimus said softly.

“Why are you even telling us at all?” she said, still angry.

_In case Braxton dies._ Willa thought.

“Octavia, you know why.” Quintus said softly and then looked at Braxton.

“He is not going to die.” She hissed out defiantly.

“We should go home and let Mr. Bagshot be alone with his children.” Septimus said. “Quintus, can you ask the staff for a bassinette?”

Quintus returned with one and Byron took Bathilda from Willa, smiling at her warmly the way Braxton always would. They had the same smile. Septimus helped her up and then they all returned to the carriage.

* * *

“Both of you to bed. Octavia, I will be up soon with a potion for you. Miss Gamp, with me please.” Septimus commanded as soon as they entered his London townhome in Grosvenor Square. Outside, the sun was starting to rise.

Octavia looked like she was about to protest when Quintus grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up the stairs. Septimus turned to fortify the house’s inner door and a bleary-eyed house elf dressed in night clothes apparated beside him. Even with his stocking cap, he looked much more dignified than Mirella, the Blacks’ house elf.

“Master, welcome home. You are earlier than Hobney expected. Hobney admits he has not prepared anything.” The house elf puffed groggily. His voice was far less squeaky than any house elf Willa had met.

Septimus stopped his incantation and looked at his house elf realizing he had forgotten to owl the creature. “This is not a problem, Hobney. We had to flee France. There was no way to send you word.”

“Flee France, Master?” Hobney gasped.

“Yes, we were attacked.” Septimus said. He motioned to Willa and said, “This is Miss Wilhelmina Gamp. She will be staying with us.”

Hobney bowed to her with some regard, as if her name bore meaning to him. “Hobney will first prepare the guest suite, sir.”

He disapparated and Septimus finished his incantation. He then led Willa through the townhome’s long central hallway past a front parlour and formal sitting room, some closed doors, and a formal dining room before entering the back room. It turned out to be the kitchen. He pulled out a pewter cauldron and set it on an iron grate, similar to the new Muggle invention called a stove but without the need for finnicky gas lines to produce the heat. He cast, “ _Incendio”_ to light a fire beneath the cauldron.

“Have a seat, Willa.” He said gently as he rummaged through the cupboards. He pulled down some chocolate and handed her it. “Eat this for the pain. I am going to brew you something else to help as well.”

“Thank you,” Willa took it and sat at the round kitchen table.

Septimus was efficient in brewing the potion, clearly talented at it and well-stocked with ingredients. Finally, he threw three chips of white willow bark in the bubbling cauldron and sat beside her.

“Ten minutes and it will be ready. How are you feeling?”

“I am unsure.” She said. “I worry for Braxton.”

“Me too,” Septimus nodded. “Sleep will help all of us. I am going to bring Octavia a sleeping draught that will give her dreamless sleep. I will give you some too, once the other potion is done and you are ready for bed. I will be right back.”

Willa nodded.

Hobney appeared before Septimus returned, informing Willa the guestroom was prepared when he did not immediately find his master. She thanked him and mentioned the abraxans had flown all the way from Paris under full concealment.

“They must be exhausted.” Hobney nodded, pulling off his stocking cap and wandering through a house elf-sized door at the edge of the kitchen. He reemerged in a coat and warmer hat, then hurriedly prepared some hot mead to soak the hay in.

“Forgive me, Hobney, but how do you have so many clothes? Are you a free elf?” Willa asked.

Hobney stared at her with horrified eyes, then realized she meant no offense and hastily shook his head. “No, Miss Wilhelmina, Hobney only wishes to look most presentable for his master. Master Malfoy is very kind. He ensures Hobney and his other house elves have all the materials to make presentable clothing.”

Willa nodded thoughtfully at this loophole and nibbled more chocolate as she remarked, “That is very kind.”

“Hobney knows he is a lucky house elf to be with such a kind master. Hobney must now go care for the abraxans, Miss Wilhelmina. Please call for Hobney should you require anything while staying with my master.”

She nodded as he bowed, then he disapparated with the bowl of mead that was almost as big as him. A few minutes later Septimus returned.

“They are both asleep.” He reported of his children.

“Hobney is tending to the abraxans. The guestroom is ready.”

Septimus sniffed the potion he was brewing then ladled a mug’s worth and handed it to Willa. She took a small sip to determine the taste and temperature. It was bitter and Septimus gave a small smile.

“Best to drink it fast.” He said knowingly.

When she finished, he lit a lantern and led her to the second floor. An informal sitting area was nestled against the back windows, above the kitchens on the bottom floor, without any walls or doors to separate it from view.

“Family area,” Septimus explained, leading her away from it and down the hallway by the stairs. There was a railing to the left to protect the open stairwell and three doors on the right. The hallway’s magical aura felt heavy, indicating that something else was there, hidden.

As they walked towards the large panel windows at the front of the house, Septimus pointed at the doors. “Floo Network fireplace and apparation landing area. Password required, of course.” He said of the first door, closest to the family area. The next door he motioned to, “My study,” and finally the front-most door, the one that would have windows overlooking Grosvenor Square, “My bedroom.”

They paused outside this door for a very brief moment, exchanging a longing glance before he guided her directly across the hall to another door. The stairs to the third floor landed here, and Septimus motioned upwards and said quietly, “Quintus’ and Octavia’s rooms.”

He opened this final door, across from his bedroom, and Willa followed him inside the warm room.

“The guest suite. It goes all the way back using hidden doors in the walls.” He explained.

The front room of the suite featured different types of seating as well as two writing desks and several bookshelves. The wallpaper was a neutral green with silver accents. Septimus unlatched the wall door and led Willa through to an even warmer room with a full fire burning. She shrugged off Septimus’ coat that he let her borrow leaving Paris and he quickly hung it for her.

“I borrowed some of Octavia’s nightclothes for you. Hopefully they will fit.” He motioned to the white clothing on the bed. “Otherwise you can use one of my shirts.”

Willa began to undress, but quickly realized she would need help. By the time she turned to Septimus to ask, he had already set down the lantern and his fingers were undoing the fasteners on her skirt.

“I figured with the pain you would be unable to do this alone.” He said softly as he quickly undressed her and then helped her into the night clothes. They fit a little tightly but nothing unbearable.

Willa climbed into the bed as Septimus hung up her gown. He pulled the sleeping draught from his robes and gave her the phial.

“Hopefully this will work for your nightmares.” He said and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

She drank the potion and smiled at him weakly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said. “I will be in my room if you need me. I love you.”

“I love you.” She murmured as the potion set in and she drifted off to sleep.


	27. The Betrayal of Britain

The shrill buzz of the front doorbell woke Willa with a start. She blinked into the daylight of the guestroom and found a day dress hung up for her. She did not recognize it as being Octavia’s taste and found a note on her bedside table that read in Septimus’ hand: _I sent Hobney to buy you some clothing. There are more options in the wardrobe._

She could hear muffled male voices downstairs and hurried to dress. She was rounding the corner to go downstairs when a hand grabbed her left wrist and tugged her backwards into the family area. It was Quintus, who held a finger to his mouth and then motioned for her to sit. Octavia sat in an armchair, leaned towards the stairs. A beautifully carved longcase clock stood against the wall, the hands pointing to 11:32.

Willa sat wordlessly and quickly realized they were listening to Septimus and whoever had called. She tuned in, so engaged that she did not notice how much less her arm and chest hurt.

“I know what your owl said, Septimus.” A man was saying. Willa knew the voice but could not place it. “Unfortunately, she murdered a French official. Merlin, the second in command. If we overlook it, if we do not at least hold a trial for it, we risk a war with France. Therefore she remains under arrest for murder and use of the Killing Curse.”

Willa looked at Quintus and Octavia with alarm. Their faces bore equal concern.

“Tell me this is a joke, Unctuous.” Septimus said.

The caller was Unctuous Osbert, the Minister of Magic.

“I would not joke about this, Septimus. They set the trial for the thirty-first of December. Who is she staying with here? Castor Black?”

“Yes, that is what she said.” Septimus said, then drew a breath, clearly piecing something together. “She can stay with me in the meantime. I am high ranking enough to qualify for holding under these accusations.”

“Very well. Yes, otherwise she must go to lower Azkaban for holding, as you well know.” Unctuous said.

Willa’s pulse quickened. _Azkaban?_

“But this is ludicrous. She saved my life and my daughter’s life. How is that a crime? I am the same rank as M. Droit here in Britain, after all. Surely the Wizengamot sides with its own countrymen?”

“I told you, it is to avoid a war. France is livid. I had a very unsavory conversation with Violette Lavoie this morning via two-way glass and Marcellus Lestrange and his sister have paid me two visits already. I told Delphine to go on to Hogwarts and she said I ought to speak with Virgil about your behavior.”

“My behavior?” Septimus’ voice was calm, and he let out an easy laugh as he closed the parlour door.

“Damn it.” Octavia muttered quietly as the men’s voices were no longer loud enough to hear from upstairs.

Willa stood and cast a Disillusionment charm.

“Oh, that is impressive.” Octavia murmured, her eyes flickering about being unable to see Willa now.

“She is likely already downstairs.” Quintus laughed, but he looked directly at Willa with an amused expression.

Without time to worry if he could see her, she hurried downstairs and stood against the wall directly beside the parlour door where she could hear clearly again. Septimus was speaking.

“If they only need the crime acknowledged, then why do you not just pardon her? Are we not friends, Unctuous? Do you not owe me this favor?” Septimus said with earnest.

“I cannot pardon her now. The pressure from our allies is too great. They are saying to try her as an adult will satisfy France. You see it is all a rouse for France, surely? We all want to avoid a war with them. Is that not the exact reason you have spent so much time there?” Unctuous said in a reassuring tone.

“They want to try her as an adult? She is hardly seventeen!”

“She was an adult in Paris. You cannot have it both ways, Septimus.” Unctuous said. “Cecil just wants some blood, something to point to.”

“If all he wants is blood, then try me instead and leave her out of it.” Septimus said more calmly.

“Virgil said you had gone soft in France. Nothing to do with pretty little Miss Gamp, I assume.” Unctuous commented.

“Virgil Hayward does not know a damn thing about me.” Septimus said in a measured tone.

Willa could feel his tension from the hallway and held her breath while Unctuous let out a smarmy laugh.

The Minister clucked his tongue easily before saying in his deep voice, “Listen to me, Septimus, I would be a fool to risk you to Azkaban over some girl. You are far too valuable.”

“You are a fool to believe Miss Gamp is just some girl.” Septimus pressed.

“Stop. It is just us here, Septimus. Clearly you enjoy her, but honestly, I do not care how good she feels wrapped around you, and I have seen the sketches of her in the _Prophet_ , so I can well enough imagine.” Unctuous said crassly then added with a jovial laugh, “Next time you need to get your dick wet, do us all a favor and buy a prostitute.”

“Excuse me?”

“Merlin, buy a whole brothel of them. We all know you have the money for it.” He laughed until he realized Septimus was not laughing.

There was a long silence. When Septimus finally spoke again, Willa could tell from his voice that he was finished with Unctuous for good. She assumed Unctuous did not know Septimus well enough to notice the finality in this shift.

“Tell me, Unctuous, do you truly believe you are the one in power? That you have made any of the decisions or swayed any of the Opposition yourself during your time as Minister?”

“I am the one in power, Septimus. You cannot issue the pardon yourself because I am the Minister of Magic, not you. That is why you called on me in the first place. I tapped you for this role, not the other way around.” Unctuous crowed.

Septimus laughed bitterly, “If you think you will last a day without me and without my money to pay off your enemies and satisfy your foppish lifestyle, you are as deranged as Robespierre.”

“Who?” Unctuous said.

“Precisely. You are a complete stranger to the world we live in. It is more than my money that backs Britain. It is my willingness to do the unpleasant work and make the backroom deals that you prove unwilling to do. Without me and my leadership, this country would be in shambles. You cannot deny that.”

“Yes, of course, Septimus, that is _why_ I tapped you for the job, but the world we live in is changing. This is not a coincidence. Money is not power anymore. It is all about blood purity. People like Castor Black and your own father-in-law, they are running out of money. But you look at someone like Artemisia Lufkin, a half-blood, and she has somehow climbed the ranks to be an equal to you, an old pureblood family? Just because she married that entrepreneur? It is not right.”

"Perhaps Castor and Thelonious could both seek out steady employment like everyone else." Septimus said tightly.

"You miss the point. Purity is power. That is their agenda." Unctuous said.

"And yet Wilhelmina Gamp is as pureblood as they come, heiress of Salazar Slytherin and niece to Castor Black at that. So, is purity really their agenda, or are they just trying to ruin me, so they can attempt to control you instead?" Septimus said, then demanded of Unctuous in an icy tone, "Are you part of this plot?"

"That is outrageous! I will not be accused of some ridiculous conspiracy theory!" Unctuous cried, never denying what Septimus asked him.

Septimus steeled himself, the depth of the betrayal now fully apparent. He did not need legilimency to see that Unctuous had been involved. That he wished to be free of Septimus, no matter the cost.

“You are right about one thing, Unctuous. The world we live in is changing. Now if you will kindly get the hell out of my house, I have a defense to come up with since you are far too great a coward to issue Miss Gamp a pardon.” Septimus said as he ripped open the parlour door and shoved Unctuous into the hallway, stating, “Hobney, please see the Minister out,” before slamming the door in the man’s face.

Hobney appeared instantly to guide the Minister to the front door, but Unctuous smacked him away saying, “Do not speak to me, filth.”

Willa watched the interaction under her Disillusionment charm, waiting for Hobney to lock the inner door to the house behind Minister Osbert before removing her spell. He muttered, “And stay out, you dirty coward!” and Willa let slip a laugh. Hobney turned sharply, alarmed.

“Mistress Wilhelmina, forgive Hobney’s language. Hobney did not realize you were here.” He bowed his head.

“You do not need to apologize for this, Hobney. Tell me, why do you now call me Mistress and not Miss?”

Hobney looked at her and said, “Master Malfoy requested that Hobney call you Mistress Wilhelmina. That Hobney treats you as the mistress of the house while you are with us, ma’am.”

Willa breathed in at this show of intention by Septimus then knelt before Hobney and checked his face for bruising, “Are you hurt?”

“Hobney is unharmed. Hobney has known worse abuse from Mistress Malfoy.” He said, then his eyes widened at his mistake of insulting Lila. “Hobney should not have said that.”

“Said what?” Willa smiled. “All I heard was that you are unharmed, though I know that a lie as you have a mark. Go see young Master Malfoy and he will heal you.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” Hobney nodded with gratitude at her implied discretion then apparated upstairs.

Willa stood and went to the parlour door. She paused a moment to take a deep breath, suddenly realizing she had never seen Septimus this angry. When she pushed open the door, she found him standing at the front windows, arms behind his back, still as a statue.

“I wish to be alone.” He said, not turning.

Willa locked the door behind her and walked to him, standing beside him in silence. He looked down at her and let out a surprised noise.

“Forgive me, I thought you were Hobney.” He said.

“No, I sent him to Quintus for care after Unctuous hit him.” Willa said.

“I do not know what to do.” Septimus admitted into the air, then he frowned at her, “How much did you hear?”

“All of it. I was hidden outside.” Willa said easily. “Listen, I have been in this situation before and I walked free then.”

“No, that was different. It was not for murder, you were not tried as an adult, and Azkaban was not the potential result.” He said turning back towards the window. “This is not intended to be about you at all, in fact. They want to destroy me and disparage the Malfoy name. Cecil Flint this whole time was plotting against me specifically, not merely pushing some purist agenda like we thought. I underestimated his ambitions. Everything goes far deeper than I thought. Your uncle, Thelonious Burke, probably Callum Borgin and his son, Leopold, Miranda’s brother. Not to mention Ardan and Delphine, and whatever Marcellus had to do with it. Who knows, Violette Lavoie may be involved since Unctuous was! The collusion is beyond me.”

“You have never trusted any of these people before though?” Willa asked.

“Not really, no. I do not really trust anyone.” He said then looked at her, “Except you and Vincent. Let us hope we can trust Vincent.”

“I am certain we can.” Willa nodded. “He would not have taken Quintus and Catherine to safety if he was in on the plot to kill your whole family.”

Septimus nodded at this reasoning. Vincent had saved his life more than once. It would be beyond shocking if he proved an untrue friend.

“Still, I am left without many allies. How did this even happen?” he bemoaned.

“You are the one always claiming the entire world hates you. I expect you knew some day they would all ban together.” Willa ribbed. Septimus’ resulting grin gave away that he indeed had excepted this and Willa continued, “Besides, you are not without allies. You are forgetting about the other half of Britain. The half that would align with your thinking because they are not purebloods.”

“The Opposition? They will never trust me. It will not matter how much I disown my own party. If I can even call them my party now.” Septimus said.

“Only one Opposition member needs to trust you.” Willa said pointedly.

“Oh, Artemisia. Yes, that is clever.” He smiled at her and said, “She did assure me she sided with you and was against France. Though what else could she do after you saved her life and I promised to never mention her involvement with the attack as long as she never spoke of it herself?”

“Once she understands what Ardan did to her, she will help us take him down. I cannot imagine she holds any sympathy for the others on your list. It is not as if any of them pay her a shred of respect.” Willa muttered.

She faced Septimus and looked into his eyes with a cold seriousness, “I am not about to let anyone destroy you or your name, as I intend to take it myself. They want to come for us? Let them try. We have already thwarted their first attempt and it was one we were not anticipating. Now they lack any advantage of surprise. Even separately we prove stronger than what they know to be possible. Imagine our power together. They have made an enemy in us that they can never defeat.”

Septimus’ lips curved into a dark smile and he kissed her.

“How is the pain?” he asked softly, his lips still quite close to hers.

“I hardly notice it.” She murmured.

“I am glad to hear.” He said, then kissed her again without inhibition.

She parted her lips and met his tongue with her own, pulling him closer for what became an exceptionally passionate kiss. The idea of their combined power intoxicating them both. When he finally pulled away from her, his expression had changed to a lighter one. His eyes sparkled with energy and Willa flooded with warm nerves at the sight of them.

“Willa,” he began softly. “I know, perhaps, this will seem like an inopportune time to ask you, but I was already planning to, and your recent speech has given my heart such arousal I simply cannot wait any longer.”

He paused to take a deep breath, and Willa gave his hand a small squeeze as her heartbeat raced. He smiled at this and then asked, “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, Wilhelmina?”

Willa broke into a wide smile and said, “Yes.”

“Yes?” he repeated.

“Yes. What did you think I was going to say?” Willa laughed.

Septimus laughed and kissed her happily. As she went to kiss him more deeply he pulled away saying, “Wait, I actually have the ring on my person. It was in Paris and I grabbed it before we left.”

He fished into his robe’s inner pocket and produced a small, silk-covered box. Inside was an emerald cut white diamond, larger than her emerald, set on a delicate white gold band lined with small diamonds. The simplistic design forced all the attention to the solitaire gemstone. Willa let out a breath as Septimus removed it from the box.

Before he put it on her, she looked up at him to say, “I love it.”

He slid the band over her left ring finger and it already fit, not needing to magically tighten.

“The band is not magical.” He explained. “Prince George gifted me it the last time I was in London and the royal jeweler set the stone in it. The stone is from one of my mother’s gaudier pieces, but I saw its potential and had it cut to this shape.”

Willa looked at the ring anew.

“Do you like it still, even though it is not magical?” he asked nervously.

“Yes, I love it.” She smiled at him. “It is almost as beautiful as you.”

Septimus breathed a laugh, then looked into her, “I love you, Willa, with all I am and everything I have.”

“I love you, Septimus, with all my being.” She said and they kissed again.

Finally they parted and both let out a long breath.

“Not to dampen the moment,” Willa said. “But, we need to figure out my defense, and now we definitely have to figure out what to say to your children about us.”

“The defense you can leave to me. I will start researching today, though I have a couple of ideas.” Septimus said then scrunched up his nose. “The second problem though, what do you think? I know yesterday we said we would tell them but obviously so much has changed. I worry for their safety and the more information they know, the more of a target they become here in England. I do not want to break my word to you though.”

“No, I agree. Until the trial is over, I would rather people think whatever crass rumors are going around. If I appear to mean nothing to you beyond a dalliance, or at least less than I would as your fiancé, then I am not a target myself. And your children will not be able to say otherwise if they do not know.” Willa said.

She admired her engagement ring once more briefly before pulling it off and returning it to the silk box.

“Five more days.” She said, closing the lid and handing it back to Septimus who slipped it into his pocket.

Septimus nodded, brushing back some of her hair and repeating, “Five more days.”

“ _Alohamora_ ” Willa cast at the parlour door and said to Septimus, “We should return to the rest of the house.”

“I need to go speak to Prince George about the people in Malfoy Manor.” Septimus said. “First, I need to lay down the ground rules for Quintus and Octavia. It is not safe for them to be out much. And you cannot leave the house at all, unfortunately. The crimes you are being tried for categorize you as a high flight risk.”

“I need to send the Blacks a letter anyway, explaining my situation and requesting they send my trunk here.” Willa said. She decided it too risky to send her mother any correspondence with Septimus’ owl. She would wait until the Blacks returned Galanta to her.

They smiled at one another again for a long moment, then started towards the door to begin their respective tasks.

* * *

The hours grew late that night, then early, and Willa could not will herself to sleep. She finally left her guestroom to seek out the kitchen for a chamomile tea or something that might calm her, but when she saw the light still on in Septimus’ study, she knew his company was what she truly sought. Quickly she was at the study’s doorway, watching him as he poured over a larger volume, his brow furrowed. After a moment, she entered the office.

“You should get some sleep.” Willa said.

Septimus looked up at her and smiled weakly.

“I thought I found something, a loophole, but it was since amended to close the loophole.” He said, then sat up straighter and added, “But were you not asleep already?”

“No,” Willa shook her head and walked around the desk to stand beside him. “I could not sleep.”

Septimus nodded. Willa pressed her palm on the desk and leaned over him to read the volume. Septimus looked back down at it, pointing to the relevant parts as he explained, “Here it is introduced,” and “Here it is modified.” Willa scanned quickly. The law spoke to defending someone not related to you through use of an Unforgiveable Curse. The loophole was in regard to whether that person was a government official acting in official capacity, but later modified to clarify social engagements such as balls and taverns meetings could not be considered official capacity.

“I am out of ideas.” Septimus admitted.

He shut the heavy book in defeat and some of his hair fell in his face. Willa pushed it back, behind his ear, and pressed her palm to his cheek.

“We will think of something. You are far too exhausted to determine anything tonight.” She said.

Septimus leaned back in the leather chair and smiled up at her.

“Perhaps you are right. It is quite late.”

“Yes, quite early, actually.” Willa said.

Septimus glanced at the timepiece and groaned.

Willa held out her hand to him and said, “We should go to bed.”

He took it, but instead of standing up, he pulled her to him. She stumbled a little in surprise, managing to slide onto his lap instead of fall on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“We can sleep here.” He murmured with a playful, tired smile.

Willa kissed him and shook her head, “No, we can sleep in your bed, beautiful.”

“But my children—” he began.

“Will not know.” Willa finished. “I do not think I can sleep tonight without you beside me.”

Septimus squeezed her tight to his chest and nodded. He inhaled deeply, as if breathing her in, and then finally lifted her off him.

“I cannot deny you sleep.” He stood with a sly smile and took her hand into his own. “Especially with the spell I must teach you tomorrow.”

He led her from the study to his bedroom, throwing a look around the hallway first to ensure the coast was clear. Once inside, he locked the door. Like in his study, the bedroom was charmed to be soundproof when locked.

Willa went to the side of the bed she slept on in Paris and climbed under the covers while Septimus changed into his nightclothes. He slid beside her, cast “ _Nox,_ ” and snuggled against her body.

“I love you, Willa.” He murmured.

“I love you, Septimus.” She said softly, wrapping an arm around his body.

Moments later they were asleep.

* * *

After an uneventful breakfast with his children, Willa and Septimus went back to his study so he could teach her the new spell, which was something called the Patronus charm.

“It is very difficult magic, made more so by the fact that you will not have a wand. Essentially it is a protection shield, but far more powerful than a simple protego.” He said. “I honestly have never heard of it being done without a wand, but I believe if anyone could do this magic wandless, it is you.”

“Thank you,” Willa smiled.

Septimus did not smile though, the subject too heavy to permit him to do so, and instead he asked, “What do you know about dementors?”

Willa shivered involuntarily before saying, “They feed on souls.”

“Not quite, but essentially. The dementors feed on emotion, specifically sadness. To access that, they must pull out your soul. To execute someone in Azkaban they have the dementors perform what is called the Dementor’s Kiss. The creature will consume all of the victim’s soul. However, it is not in the nature of a dementor to do this level of attack unless truly desperate or commanded to perform it.” Septimus said.

Willa let out a ragged breath. This was more gruesome than she had imagined from Ardan’s threats.

“So, this spell,” she started. “It is to protect against the dementor’s attack?”

“Correct. The incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum.’ Try it.”

“Expecto Patronum.” Willa said. She repeated it a few times and Septimus nodded.

“Good. Now for the tricky part, activating the spell.” He said.

“Have you done it before?” Willa asked.

“Yes, a few times.” Septimus said. “Though never without a wand.”

“Can you show me?” she asked.

“Yes, in fact I think that will be useful for you to see it first.” He nodded and then moved to stand beside her.

Willa watched him as he pulled out his wand then closed his eyes. He breathed deeply a few times and then smiled to himself. He opened his eyes, his face becoming hard and fierce as he cast, “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

A white, translucent fluidlike material shot out of his wand, whipping into a flurried wind like a gusty day, before forming the corporeal shape of a Thestral.

“Oh!” Septimus exclaimed with a startled expression. “My patronus changed.”

“Changed?” Willa asked, marveling at the patronus Thestral, which looked around unsure what to do given the lack of imminent threat.

“It used to be a garden snake.” He said and then pulled the patronus back into his wand.

He breathed a few times, leaning against his desk for support, then looked up at Willa and smiled.

“Should I try it first with my wand?” she asked.

“No.” he shook his head, still out of breath. Clearly it was an exhausting spell. “No, you should only learn how to do it wandless. There should be no other method for you to fall back on when faced with an actual dementor.”

“Beforehand you closed your eyes and went somewhere else. What was that?” she asked.

“Yes, that is how to activate the spell. You must call upon a powerful happy memory. The happiest you have ever felt.” He said and moved to stand beside her again.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to think of something uncomplicatedly happy. She thought of herself playing the piano. Of the first time she composed an original song and how freeing it felt. She smiled.

“You have your memory?” Septimus asked.

Willa nodded.

“Allow it to fill you up. Let it overcome you.” He said softly. “Then you will channel that energy into the Patronus charm. It will form the shield. Whenever you are ready.”

Willa took a deep breath, permitting the memory to flow throughout her. She opened her eyes, the way Septimus had done, and then held out her hand and cast in a sure voice, “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

She could feel the energy coursing through her, like how she had felt when her wand combined with Braxton’s. She willed it from her hand, but it was weak. A mere wisp of the translucent white that had come from Septimus’ wand.

“Good, that was good.” Septimus said. “You produced part of the charm shield. It just needs more power. What were thinking of?”

Willa explained her memory.

“Hm, no. Something deeper, more complex. My memory is of Quintus and Octavia as young children. Octavia had a nightmare, but when I arrived at her room to check on her, Quintus was already there singing her a lullaby. They never saw me, so I could just watch them together. It was so peaceful.” Septimus said with some nostalgia. “But peacefulness is not everyone’s sense of happiness. So, you must find that. When have you felt truly happy?”

“When I imagine what will happen on our wedding night.” Willa said quietly with a blush.

Septimus grinned and said softly, close to her ear, “As much as I look forward to that too, it needs to be an actual memory.”

Willa nuzzled her cheek against his skin then turned to meet his lips with her own. He kissed her back softly, closing his eyes so he could lose himself in it for a moment.

There was a gasp from the doorway and Septimus’ eyes flew open in time to see Octavia turning to flee from the study.

“Shit.” He said. His expression betrayed someone had just walked in on them.

“Octavia?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Go to her.” Willa said.

Septimus nodded and ran out of the room to catch up to his daughter. She was nowhere to be seen though and it was Quintus whom he ran into not very far from the study.

“She took the Floo to visit Braxton.” He explained to his father.

“I need to speak with her. She cannot go alone, unescorted. It is unsafe.” Septimus responded with urgency, attempting to sidestep his son but failing.

Quintus caught his chest and looked him in the eye, “No, you need to let her go. She needs time to process this. I will go to her.”

“Process this? Process what? What do you know?” Septimus asked, pushing into his son’s mind.

“Father, stop.” Quintus said, blocking him easily. He let out a measured breath and then said in a meaningful way, “I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes. Since August, when it began. Father, there is something I need to tell you. Willa should be here, too.” Quintus said.

Willa, who had been eavesdropping, emerged from the study at this and Quintus smiled at her kindly. She walked to them, stopping next to Septimus. She wanted to take his hand but refrained in Quintus’ presence.

“What is it you need to tell us?” Septimus asked Quintus in an even tone despite his racing thoughts. He longed to hold Willa’s hand to help calm his nerves.

“You may touch each other in front of me. I see you both want to comfort one another right now.” Quintus said calmly.

Willa took Septimus’ hand in her own, her heart racing. How would Quintus know this? She could not feel him in her mind.

“I am a Legilimens.” Quintus said, answering her unspoken question. “I can read every mind without trying to do so.”

“For how long?” Septimus asked, shocked. Being a Legilimens was very rare and triggered not at birth, but with age or need.

“Since the spring.” He said, hesitating before meeting his father’s eyes to add, “Since Mrs. Bagshot’s trial.”

Septimus took a long, deep breath before saying, “So, you already knew who she was then?”

Quintus nodded. He looked between them and added, “I know everything that somebody near me thinks.”

“Everything?” Willa blushed profusely, trying not to think of anything she had done with Septimus.

“No, do not be ashamed, please. Your love for each other is very pure. Much purer than most people’s concept of love.” Quintus said softly.

“This is why you are such a gifted healer. You can see what is actually wrong.” Willa whispered.

“Yes,” Quintus said.

“Why would you not tell me?” Septimus asked in a stern tone.

“Father, you—” Quintus stopped.

“You know everything.” Septimus whispered as it dawned on him that his son knew since the spring that he had killed his mother and then resurrected her to very negative consequences. He knew his other identities. He knew about Willa’s father and the obliviated trial. He knew all his secrets.

Quintus nodded.

“I am so sorry.” Septimus said.

“I just, I do not understand why you brought my mother back.” Quintus said after a moment.

“I…” Septimus started, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“He loved her.” Willa said to Quintus. “And he needed her to forgive him.”

Septimus did not dissent. She had captured it precisely, even if he no longer felt any of those things.

“Father, she is incapable of love and forgiveness. She is evil.” Quintus said in a serious tone.

“I know.” Septimus whispered with shame.

“We have to kill her. For good.” Quintus said.

Willa looked at Septimus, who appeared very emotionally strained. She wondered if he was trying to block Quintus from reading his mind. If that was even possible.

“You do not know how.” Quintus concluded after a moment of searching his father’s mind.

Willa’s heart sank. She had held hope it was only a matter of convincing him to kill her again.

“Go and speak to your sister.” Septimus finally said. “Willa must master this charm before her trial.”

“Father, are you angry with me?” Quintus asked.

“No, I am not angry.” Septimus said, his voice becoming soft as he placed his hand on Quintus’ shoulder paternally. “I worry for Octavia. Go to her, please.”

Quintus nodded and turned to go to the fireplace in the next room. Once he was consumed in green flames, Septimus let out a weary sigh.

“How are you?” Willa asked, facing him in the hallway.

He opened his mouth to respond but shut it again. He was in shock and there were not any adequate words. Willa took both his hands into hers and smiled at him warmly. This calmed him, but her next words made him feel elated.

“He approves of us though. That much was clear.” She said.

Septimus relaxed into a broad smile and nodded, saying, “Yes, it did seem so.”

Willa pushed up to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his own. Willa held onto him tightly, losing herself to the warmth of the moment. She had never seen Septimus so happy before, not even yesterday when she agreed to marry him. That his son’s approval of her would merit such happiness in him confirmed for her, more than the marriage proposal ever could, that he wanted to be with her in every way she longed for. She felt whole.

She pulled away from his lips, but stayed in that energy, filling herself up with it as she turned to face the family area. She held out her arm and said with command, “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

They watched as the whitish translucent wispy fluid emerged from the palm of her hand. It was weak at first, but she focused on Septimus’ arm, still wrapped around her waist, causing her to channel more energy. Her hand heated up like fire as the patronus grew, flowing out in surges until it took a corporeal form of a leopardess.

“This is incredible.” Septimus whispered, completely in awe of Willa’s power.

She began to tire and the leopardess ran back into her hand. It seemed to Willa the hallway grew much darker than it had been before, and she heard Septimus make a panicked noise before catching her body as she fainted.


	28. A Curious Visit

When Willa woke, she was alone on the guestroom bed still fully dressed. She could hear voices debating outside the wall in the family area. She closed her eyes to focus on listening.

“I know what you told me, Quintus, but it still is just wrong.” Octavia said.

“I think you simply lack the ability to understand yet because you have never been in love.” Quintus said.

Willa did not think this was a wise answer and Octavia quickly retorted in a nasty tone, “I will refrain from further comment given how stupid and naïve you know me to be.”

“No one thinks you are stupid or naïve.” A new voice said, Willa could not place it immediately but realized it was Catherine as she continued to speak. “In fact, I have a feeling you understand these emotions better than your brother or father possibly could because you are a woman.”

Willa smiled at Catherine’s choice to use the word “woman” over “girl.” She knew Octavia would respond well to this and was rewarded when Catherine continued, having clearly received a nonverbal approval from the youngest Malfoy.

“My next oldest sister Camille married a man I did not approve of at all just last year. He is fifteen years her senior and I felt had a gruff disposition.” Catherine explained in a very conversationally adult tone. “I even went on to tell her how I felt and she said just the same as Quintus tells you now: that I simply could not understand. And she was right. I could not understand. Not until I spent time with Quintus. It is a strange moment, but when you go from watching others fall in love to doing so yourself, the rational mind disappears. All you can do is think from your heart.”

“I do understand all of this.” Octavia said. “You are just far older than her, father. She could be your child.”

Willa was surprised Septimus was there, as they had seemed to be speaking about him and her without either present. But Septimus replied to his daughter, confirming he was in fact in the family room.

“I know,” he said. “I struggled with that at first, I will admit. It felt wrong, as you say. Willa, though, is unlike anyone else I have met. You know I have been unhappy for some time, many years. It is difficult to speak about, but your mother’s de—your mother, she left me very broken.”

“Yes, I know, father.” Octavia said softly. Willa surmised from her tone they did not discuss Lila’s death very often, which did not surprise her given the truth of what happened.

Septimus cleared his throat and continued, “I admit that I did not think I would ever heal, but Willa has made me whole again.”

Willa smiled from her bed, tears falling as his words overwhelmed her with happiness. She stood, wiping her face clean.

“Then I am glad.” Octavia said.

Willa checked her appearance was suitable in the guestroom’s mirror, pinching her cheeks to brighten herself before walking to the family area. Septimus was hugging Octavia when she arrived. He looked up at her, smiling more than she knew him to be able and Willa smiled fully back.

“Ah, Willa, you are awake. How are you feeling?” Septimus said.

 _Happier than I ever have before_ , Willa thought, but said instead, “Much better, thank you.”

She noticed Quintus give a small smile, but he said nothing. She wondered vaguely how often he did that in a day. At her thought, his smile morphed into a smirk.

“I am glad to hear it. The Patronus charm is taxing, as you saw. We will need to practice again, but right now we are having a family meeting. Come and join us.” Septimus said, motioning to the space next to him on the couch.

His use of the term ‘family meeting’ triggered a memory of the worst family meeting she had ever been in. A memory she never let forward. The meeting when they determined how to cover up her murder of Ciaran and Opala. It took place just after their deaths, in the Gamps’ Ohio Country home.

Willa sat before her parents, still shaking in sobs. Her mother had not yet met her eye once learning what she had done, and her father pinched his brow in frustrated thought.

“Stop crying, child.” He demanded. But Willa could not stop herself, so he backhanded her across the face. She hardly recoiled, looking up at him instead. “I said, stop crying.”

His Imperius Curse now back in effect, Willa managed to come to a mere sniffle.

“Good. Now, we all need to corroborate our stories so you are not executed for murdering your brother and that No-Maj girl. We already established the No-Majs killed Ciaran for being a wizard and their own girl because she defended him.” Ardan said. He added severely, “The two were _not_ romantically involved. We cannot risk tainting the Gamp name with Ciaran’s mistake of breaking the new law.”

Willa and her mother nodded. He furrowed his brow at Willa, his mind fast at work.

“You…followed him?” Ardan frowned, trying to invent the next stage of the story.

“Ciaran and I were together, wanting to get away from the No-Maj conflict. We were followed by Opala and the other Lenape, who hoped to expose us in all the confusion.” Willa supplied in a calm voice.

Ardan beamed at her and nodded, “Yes, very good.”

He paced more quickly, excited by his daughter’s ease of storytelling. “Then you, my dear child, were able to escape their attacks by disapparating. A form of self-defense. You came here to warn me of the Scourers, but I was too late to the scene and Ciaran was already dead, shot by the No-Majs.”

“Yes, and I did disapparate, so this will work with what MACUSA can track.” Willa nodded.

Ardan sat beside her on the couch and coaxed a hand over her hair paternally as he said, “You are lucky we love you enough to help you cover this up. Right, Dipsas?”

Her mother nodded but said nothing, still looking anywhere but at Willa.

“I am grateful.” Willa said softly to her father in the memory and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Willa shuddered presently at the thought of his embrace, her skin crawling.

“Willa, you are safe here.” Catherine’s voice interjected, pulling Willa out of her memory.

Quintus shook his head at her to indicate she had misunderstood Willa’s emotions. Looking between them, Willa realized Catherine knew he was a Legilimens and the two must communicate this way all the time.

“Willa, I think I have just determined what you can use for your defense plea. You can claim self-defense.” Quintus said.

Willa startled and became horrified as she realized Quintus now knew she had murdered two other people beyond M. Droit, one of them her own brother. A secret she had only told one person. Perhaps he already knew all of this though.

Septimus had arrived at Willa by then, as she had not moved from her original stopping point when coming into the family area initially. He took her hands and asked softly, “Are you all right?”

Willa nodded and said quietly, “Yes, this just reminded me of my brother for a moment.”

He gave her hands a squeeze and asked, “Can you join us?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling as she remembered what he said about her making him feel whole again.

As Septimus led Willa to sit beside him on the couch, he asked Quintus, “What did you mean about the self-defense claim?”

He had ruled this out already as Willa had not been defending herself, but any ideas were welcomed at this point.

“If Willa claims self-defense, then it flips the assailant to the French. To M. Droit, himself. She was not only defending herself, but you two and Braxton.” Quintus explained.

“Hm, so pull the situation out further, pitting France against Britain.” Septimus said, thoughtful.

“It certainly exposes their claim that they merely wish to avoid a war with France.” Willa mused. She smiled at Quintus and added, “Clever.”

“Thanks. If Octavia were to bear witness, this would corroborate the story.” Quintus suggested, looking at his sister to explain, “Father will be unable to bear witness as the defense.”

“I am willing to testify.” Octavia nodded and looked at Willa with a smile, “However I can repay you for saving my life—and my father’s life—I am willing.”

Willa smiled her gratitude. Catherine chimed in that Octavia’s testimony would strengthen the case.

“Absolutely not!” Septimus said loudly, startling everyone into looking at him while Willa took his hand into her own to comfort him. He explained, “I will not expose Octavia to the Wizengamot. They will try to destroy you, just to get to me. I will not risk your reputation.”

“Father, I can handle it.” Octavia said defiantly. When he remained unmoved, she added, “Do you not wish to present the best case to keep Willa out of prison?”

Willa could feel the wound she inflicted on Septimus with these callous words and gave his hand a squeeze before saying, “This is not up for discussion, Octavia. Apologize to your father right now. With all he faces at the moment, do you really think it fair he must also fend off manipulation attempts from his own daughter?”

Octavia’s eyes widened as she bit back her indignant thought and instead looked at Quintus to measure his reaction. He smiled encouragingly at her and she remembered what he had said after finding her in Braxton’s hospital room an hour ago: “Father is so happy now. He no longer needs to be looked after by us. With Willa around, we are free to live our lives how we want. She already shoulders him in our stead.”

Octavia knew he was right. Their father had all but stopped drinking since meeting Willa. She had noticed easily because he always had firewhisky or mead on hand before that. His letters had all been more coherent and more positive this term than prior years, other than the one when he had been missing in Paris and the one when he had admonished her for taking up with the Flints so blindly. His melancholy was finally gone. Neither she or Quintus had thought it was possible. 

She looked at Willa now, who did not appear sadistic or lording, but merely protective of her father. Then it clicked. All the times she thought Willa had been presenting herself as an ally or rival, she had been checking in on her. Their conversation on Christmas morning was to garner her support of her father’s side of things when he had failed to do so. The Yule Ball attack itself was only thwarted because Willa chose to stay to protect her wandless father, which in turn meant her. Clearly Willa cared about her and her family. She had killed a man to save her from killing her father. Octavia did not know if she could do the same. She thought on what Quintus and Catherine had said before, “You cannot really understand until you are in love.” Now she saw they were right. 

“I am sorry. Father it was unfair of me to say that. Of course you want to present the best case however you can. Willa, I understand now. I understand that you love my father and our family. I am glad for it.”

Willa smiled at her warmly, though she felt shocked. _What did Quintus say to her?_ She wondered, glancing at him. Quintus was busy sharing an intimate smile with Catherine. This confirmed for Willa that Octavia was being earnest.

Septimus for his part was floored. Both by how easily Willa assumed a disciplinary role and by how luxurious it felt to have a parenting partner. It was not something he ever experienced with Lila, which was likely why he had not thought to discuss parenting methods with Willa at all. Normally he would try to comfort Octavia to coax her into an idea. If Willa could that quickly garner a changed response from Octavia, both now and on Christmas morning, then he would be foolish not to support her methods. Besides, he wanted to present a unified front with her. He respected Willa as his equal, and his children should, too.

He laced his fingers through Willa’s, swallowed his nerves, and said sternly, “I appreciate your apology, Octavia, however, Willa is correct. This is not up for discussion. You will not be testifying in court or even attending the trial. There is no need for Miss Avery to attend either.”

He looked at each of them, finishing with a lingering gaze on Willa as he said, “We protect our own, always. That is what it means to be a Malfoy.”

The front doorbell rang loudly through the heavy silence that followed Septimus’ words.

“Who could that even be?” Septimus frowned. He was meeting Vincent and Prince George tomorrow to integrate the French Muggle nobility into British society, so it would not be Vincent unless something had happened. He highly doubted Unctuous would show his face on Malfoy property ever again, but he certainly would not do so unannounced. Octavia reported Braxton’s condition as stable, so it was unlikely to be related to that.

Hobney popped up in the family area and announced, “Mr. Rigel Black and Miss Elnath Black are here to call on Mistress Wilhelmina.”

“Ah, that solves it.” Septimus said, turning to Willa, “Would you like to take them in the parlour?”

Yes,” Willa said then looked at Catherine and Quintus and, thinking of Elnath, added, “On my own is probably for the best.”

“Let me come with you. I wish to see Rigel.” Octavia said before adding darkly, “I need to know where his loyalties now lie.”

Willa nodded, wanting to know the same, and turned to Hobney, “See them in. We will take them in the parlour.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Hobney bowed and disapparated.

“Willa?” Septimus said quietly. She looked at him. “Will you them about us?”

“No, we agreed it was unsafe for them.” She said, meaning his children and consequently Catherine.

Septimus opened his mouth to address Octavia, but she said, “I understand” before he could give any command to not speak of their relationship.

“We understand, too.” Quintus said, and Catherine nodded.

Willa stood and threw at them with a sly smile, “I will leave the parlour door open.”

Septimus and Quintus both smirked at this and Octavia followed Willa downstairs, allowing her to lead as now this seemed the order of things. Before they went into the parlour, Willa pulled Octavia aside, cast praeligo, and said softly, “Your father is scared to lose you. You and Quintus mean everything to him. That is why he does not want you to testify. But I agree with you that it strengthens my case, and I think you should testify, if you are still willing?”

“I am willing.” Octavia said. “Beyond wanting the best outcome for you and my father both, I want to stand against Mr. Flint. After how he tried to use me against my own family, I _need_ to stand against him.”

Willa nodded. “I understand. I will work on your father and persuade him to let you bear witness.”

Octavia smiled, and Willa removed the Dampening charm before they entered the parlour.

Rigel and Elnath sat together on the parlour’s formal couch when Willa and Octavia entered. Rigel stood and bowed to them both to show respect.

“Please, sit.” Willa said and Rigel sat back down.

She slid into the chair near the fireplace, not realizing it was where Septimus always sat. Octavia sat in the chair beside her, where Quintus typically took his callers in the room. She usually would be on the couch the Blacks presently occupied or not invited at all.

“We brought your trunk with us, as well as Galanta.” Elnath said to break the silence. “The house elf sent them up to your room.”

“That was good of Hobney.” Willa said. “Is this why you called?”

“No, we wanted to see you. To see how you fare after...everything that has happened.” Rigel said.

Their voices were strained and Willa realized her cousins were there to beg her forgiveness on behalf of their family.

“We are not well, Rigel.” Octavia said flatly. “Your family has betrayed us and in turn England.”

“Octavia!” Willa chided, but she watched her cousins’ reactions. They squirmed, exchanging a worried glance. Willa wished she had summoned Quintus with her to garner the truth from them. She wondered if he could read them from upstairs.

“We acknowledge our father made some poor choices of late.” Rigel began. He cleared his throat then added, “As have I. Elnath is excluded from all of this, as she never swayed in her fidelity to you, Willa.”

“Are you telling me your father is part of the reason I am under arrest or part of the plot to assassinate Octavia and the rest of the Malfoy family?” Willa asked matter-of-factly before leaning in with a raised eyebrow, “Or both?”

Rigel swallowed, looking between Willa and Octavia’s stern faces. Something had changed in their dynamic, but he did not understand what. _Perhaps Octavia feels indebted to Willa for saving her life_?

“Forgive me, please.” Rigel said. “I fell for Mr. Flint’s lies, as did my father. We did not partake in either of those plots, but by not dissenting from Mr. Flint sooner, we did not dissuade them from happening.”

Willa and Octavia said nothing.

“Willa, please, he only wished to protect the Black name and fortune.” Elnath pleaded.

At this Willa let out a loud scoff. She fixed her cousins with a piercing look, akin to the hateful intensity her father conjured for Ciaran so often.

“What do you think I was doing in Paris? Idly having drinks with Mr. Malfoy and clamoring up the political ladder?” Willa hissed. “No. I was protecting people like _you_. Families who quietly break the Statute of Secrecy to continue exploiting Muggles for money. If the Muggles of France invade England, they will be coming to quarter the Most Ancient and _Noble_ House of Black—their landlords! How stupid can you and your father be to not see reality so plainly? To put your own sister in imminent danger of a dark magic attack and allow the very man who offered you a chance at upward mobility to be victim of an assassination plot? Braxton and I are the only reason Octavia and Mr. Malfoy are alive. Braxton who is your friend and now may never wake up. You act in all these things and still ask for my forgiveness? When all along I was helping protect you from the oncoming consequences of your family’s own illegal activity. I was protecting the Black name and fortune.”

There was a thick silence before the Blacks looked at each other and nodded in a private exchange.

“We are not here for our father.” Elnath said pointedly.

“We are here for ourselves.” Rigel said. “We will disown him. We will become Gaunts. Whatever it takes to regain your trust—both of your trusts.”

“Your family line will end if you do that.” Octavia said in a whisper.

Willa looked between her cousins. Their hard expressions implied they were entirely serious. She pressed into their minds to be certain. Satisfied with their allegiance, Willa removed the spell and relaxed.

“Do not disown the Black name. I forgive you.” She said in a bright tone.

Octavia looked at her, mouth agape, but nodded along quickly regaining her composure.

“Yes, I forgive you as well.” She said.

The Blacks’ tension visibly deflated. Willa much preferred to see them in this relaxed state. She stood and walked to the decanter of firewhisky near the front of the room where Septimus had proposed to her. She smiled to herself at the memory of his proposal and poured four glasses. She floated three back to the others with a wandless charm and went to close the parlour door.

Elnath was stunned by Willa’s familiarity with the Malfoy townhome. She was acting as if she lived there. As if it were her home. Octavia seemed entirely complacent with this as well. She recounted that the girl had not paid her such generosity whenever she visited Quintus at Malfoy Manor. Elnath did not dare bring any of this up, however, and risk Willa’s restored faith in them.

“Tell me,” Willa said with a grin as she slid back into her chair, “How is Patrice? Last I saw, he was carrying you to safety in his arms.”

Elnath blushed and sipped some of the firewhisky. She launched into the rest of the story, which was far less traumatic than Willa and Octavia’s same night. He had brought her to the carriages and they rode to Hogwarts alongside Penelope and Xabi as well as a few dozen other Beauxbatons students. When Willa inquired about Bertok, she said he took another carriage with Headmaster Kolvargson and the other Durmstrang students. They had assumed she and Braxton were with him. When Willa pressed about Hélène, Elnath explained she had entered with her aunt, Headmistress Lestrange, and they were staying at her father’s residence in London until term started. That was where Patrice, Xabi, and Penelope also were staying.

Octavia asked Rigel a question about Arlo Potter that neither Elnath nor Willa knew anything about, and he responded with a long story that had Octavia doubled over in laughter. The afternoon passed easily in gossip and banter. Two hours later, Septimus popped in to tell Willa and Octavia he was leaving to run an errand before it got dark. The Blacks, after obsequious salutations to the man, realized they should return home at such an hour.

* * *

Septimus was snuggled against Willa’s back when the bell rang in the afternoon of the twenty-ninth of December. She had been practicing her Patronus charm for hours while he strengthened their case, and both were exhausted. Quintus and Octavia were at St. Mungo’s to visit Braxton, as they did every day.

Hobney knocked lightly on his master’s bedroom door and Septimus kissed Willa’s cheek tenderly before rising. She let out a soft sigh but did not stir.

“Mrs. Dipsas Gamp and Mrs. Nerodia Black are here to see Mistress Wilhelmina, sir.” Hobney reported once Septimus had closed the bedroom door behind him.

“Did you tell them she is asleep?” Septimus frowned.

“I did, but… well, if Hobney may speak frankly, sir?” Septimus nodded, so Hobney continued, “Mrs. Black does not appear to respect house elves enough to believe me, and Mrs. Gamp was close to tears. I thought it best you manage the situation.”

“Yes, I believe you are right.” Septimus sighed. “Have you seen them in?”

“Yes, I took their coats and they are in the parlour.” Hobney reported.

“Thank you. Send in some tea for us.”

Hobney nodded and was gone to the kitchens with a snap. Septimus threw on a green daytime robe and fixed his appearance briefly before he made his way downstairs.

The Gaunt sisters perched on his couch, clearly uncomfortable to be inside his home, and he put on a polite expression and entered the parlour.

“Mrs. Gamp, Mrs. Black,” he said, nodding to both. “I am afraid Miss Gamp is asleep.”

“Yes, your house elf said. Surely you do not mind to let her mother wait?” Nerodia said. She looked at her sister, who indeed appeared close to tears.

“No, of course not.” Septimus smiled and moved to sit in the chair Quintus typically occupied in this room so that he would block the pathway to the door. “I already sent for tea.”

Nerodia nodded, a hand on Dipsas’ forearm to comfort her. A tense and endless silence followed. Septimus was too tired to invent conversation or even try to use legilimency on either woman to determine why they came unannounced.

“What is your plan for the defense?” Dipsas asked, her voice seemed off somehow, but Septimus had not spoken to her in more than a decade.

“Oh, we are using self-defense.”

“Like Ardan used in Willa’s trial for underage magic.” Dipsas nodded thoughtfully. “Hopefully you are as compelling as he is.”

Dipsas expression was cold, hard. Septimus marveled at how similar to her mother Willa looked.

“I do not plan to lose your daughter, Dipsas.” Septimus said. Both women tensed up at this, but he did not correct his statement for what he said was his intent.

The tea appeared then and Septimus poured it with a flick of his wand. As he did, Dipsas finally began to cry.

“Sister?” Nerodia asked, squeezing her wrist harder.

“I am all right.” Dipsas nodded through sniffles. She looked at Septimus to ask, “May I use your powder room to refresh myself?”

“Of course,” Septimus rose, leading her to the hall and pointing out which door contained the powder room. He waited until she went inside the room before returning to Nerodia.

Upstairs, there was a pop of apparation and Willa blinked awake to hear a metallic rattling and someone mutter very close to her, “Of course he would have you in his bed. Disgusting.”

“Father?” she asked, alarmed. She moved to grab her wand from the nightstand, hitting Septimus’ locket when she did. He had removed it earlier when they had lain down for their nap. The person who apparated into the room sat beside her on the bed and caught her arm as she closed her fingers around the fir wand.

“No, Mina, it is your mother.” She said.

Willa relaxed. Only her mother called her Mina, and sure enough when she looked at her, it was Dipsas.

“Mother, what are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you. You know father cannot enter England.” She brushed some of Willa’s hair back lovingly. “I could not bear to think how alone you must feel.”

“I am not alone.” Willa said, unable to stop her smile from forming as she thought of Septimus. “Wait, did he let you up here unaccompanied?”

“Not exactly,” Dipsas smiled. “But I had to see you and I did not trust Mr. Malfoy would permit me.”

Willa sat up to better look at her mother. She lowered her voice and said, “Mother, when this is over, you can come live with us.”

“With us?”

“Septimus and me.” Willa said.

Dipsas’ face grew serious and she shook her head, “Oh Mina, your father will _never_ allow you to marry Septimus Malfoy.”

Willa shook her head and said, “He has no say in England.”

Her mother gave her a sad look and then pulled her into a tight hug.

“I always loved you.” She whispered.

“I know, mother.” Willa replied.

Dipsas pulled away and held Willa’s face in her hands. Her eyes were an intense blue blaze, and Willa suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Mother?”

“I have to go now. We will be together soon when all of this is over.” Dipsas said.

Willa nodded and Dipsas kissed her on the forehead. She stood and disapparated back to the powder room.

Septimus was about to check on Dipsas when she walked into the parlour. She looked at Nerodia, who had barely touched her tea, and said, “Sister, I am unwell. We should go.”

Nerodia nodded, standing and thanking Septimus for his hospitality. He stood and followed them out, helping them into their coats quickly as the overwhelming feeling that something was not right grew within him. Not a second after the door closed behind them did Septimus apparate to his bedroom.

Willa sat in the bed, seemingly unharmed, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you all right?” Willa asked upon seeing his expression.

“I am unsure.” Septimus said. “Was your mother just in here?”

“Yes,” Willa said with some hesitation.

“Did she seem off at all?” he asked.

“A little, yes. It felt like she was saying goodbye to me.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Willa said.

Septimus stood beside her now, where her mother had been when she first woke up, and he picked up his locket from the nightstand with a frown.

“Did you move this?” he asked.

“Oh, um, yes. I hit it when reaching for my wand.”

Septimus nodded, visibly relaxing as he opened the locket. The portrait remained empty. He closed it again and slid it over his head, stuffing it inside his robes. Willa reached her hand to stroke his body and he smiled down at her.

“I do not feel like practicing again yet.” She said. “Can we just stay here a bit longer?”

“I am very fond of that idea.” Septimus grinned, discarding his day robe and moving around the bed to climb in back to where he lay before the Gaunt sisters interrupted them. Willa snuggled into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

* * *

The next night came, Willa’s trial set for the morning. Braxton still had not woken up. That morning Willa finally convinced Septimus to allow Octavia to be a witness should they need one. He made Octavia promise not to lie, no matter what was asked, so they could not press charges on her for anything.

He sat beside Willa in bed now, both in their night clothes and not bothering to pretend any longer that Willa was sleeping in the guestroom.

“Walk me through what happens if I am to be convicted tomorrow.” Willa said.

“You will not be. We will see justice for you.” He replied.

“You taught me the Patronus charm just in case. I want to be entirely prepared. No surprises, regardless the outcome.”

“Yes, all right.” Septimus nodded and lovingly tucked a loose curl of her let down hair behind her ear. He had not been Chief Warlock for some years, but the process remained the same.

“A magic-dampening cage comes around you, so you cannot escape or attack anyone. Then the floor will open beneath you and you fall to the preparation chamber. Here they process you for Azkaban, taking any belongings, including your clothing, and giving you prison robes. Most importantly, this is when they will snap your wand in half, which is why you will leave your wand here, along with any other valuables. They are supposed to give everything to your next of kin, but anything of value rarely makes it past the processing guards.”

“I do not wish my next of kin to have my valuables anyway.” Willa muttered. “What happens next?”

“Aurors transport you to Azkaban and take you to your cell on the upper levels.” Septimus said with a slight shudder. He let out a deep breath and smiled at Willa warmly, “But you will not have to go through any of that. We will simply come home after they find you Not Guilty. Then we can finally be together officially.”

Willa smiled back at him. “I want that very much. Even if we do not marry immediately, I want everyone to know we are intended and together. I never wish to hide my love for you from anyone ever again.”

“Me neither.” Septimus beamed.

They smiled at each other intimately until eventually they kissed. It went on, quickly becoming passionate until they both wore no clothing and Willa was moving her mouth down his torso in a trail of kisses that carefully avoided his scars. She soon found her target and Septimus was moaning out her name a little while later. She did not use the Vanishing spell, swallowing instead so that a part of him would be with her as she faced tomorrow.

He happily reciprocated the oral sex and Willa memorized everything about it. The muscles aches in her abdomen, the early ticklishness of his touch, the roughness of his new growth of facial hair on her tender skin, the changing shape of his tongue against her. She wanted to keep this memory forever. Finally she relaxed and let the physical pleasure consume her fully.

Afterwards they lay facing each other naked, shy the shirt Septimus had put back on to cover his scars.

“I love you, no matter what happens tomorrow.” Willa said.

Septimus looked deep into her eyes and said, “Willa, I will never stop loving you.”


	29. The Trial of Wilhelmina Gamp

The Wizengamot courtroom was a foreboding space. Unlike the French Court, it was a cylindrical room, the spectators and judges towering above the proceedings. It all served to intimidate the defendant, whose place was in the center of the cavernous room’s base. Willa did not feel intimidated sitting there now, even as the chains on her chair roved about hungrily as if they fed on prisoners.

Septimus was handling the opening statements, and he and Willa both were unsure why Delphine and Marcellus Lestrange were in attendance. Beyond those two, Willa had not taken in the crowd’s identities upon entering. She could sense the entire spectator seating was full, a sea of people there to watch, as it was certainly the spectacle of the year. For her own courage, Willa had decided it was better not to know who of her friends and family were present. She tunneled her focus solely to the Wizengamot while she waited for Septimus to finish, making eye contact only once with Artemisia Lufkin, who gave her an anxious smile.

Once Septimus finished, the Chief Warlock, Cecil Flint, called on Willa, “Miss Wilhelmina Gamp, please stand.”

She stood, keeping eye contact with the pompous man whom she had met briefly at Malfoy Manor in August. His squat nose matched his daughter’s, Josephina, though it fit her face much better. He was a somewhat stocky man and with this nose and his slight underbite, he greatly resembled a pug.

“You stand accused of two crimes, the use of the Killing Curse, an unforgivable curse, and the murder of M. Purcell Droit, a high-ranking foreign government official. How do you plead?” he asked without much emotion, as if the whole thing were a standard civil case or minor offence such as use of magic by an underage witch. Willa remained hopeful that his lack of emotion meant this trial was indeed just for show.

“I plead not guilty on both accounts, sir.” Willa said. “My use of the unforgivable curse and resulting death of M. Droit was out of self-defense during the Yule Ball attack in Beauxbatons. A ball that I was required to attend.”

Only a small murmur ensued, as most people anticipated this plea, and everyone had heard about the Yule Ball attack by now.

“Very well, Miss Gamp. Please inform the Wizengamot of evidence to support your plea.”

This was standard procedure and Septimus had prepared Willa for Mr. Flint to ask for her eye witness account in this way. She launched into it, recounting the evening’s events from when she and Elnath were on the back patio of Beauxbatons up through having to apparate herself and Braxton to safety. As agreed, Willa left out Mrs. Lufkin entirely from the story and acted as though the identity of the person who started the windstorm remained a mystery.

She kept her tone neutral and matter-of-fact, wanting to save the emotional sway for Octavia’s witness testimony. Though she hoped her account alone would suffice to convince the Wizengamot of her innocence.

That the trial was entirely a façade to appease the French seemed less and less likely as Mr. Flint began to barrage her with questions regarding nearly everything but her testimony and the events of the Yule Ball. The only reason for him to veer off course like this was to promote his personal agenda—one which clearly was anti-Septimus and pro-pureblood. Willa treaded lightly, fighting all desire to glance at Septimus for support. She needed to appear independent of him.

Mr. Flint’s questions steered to the statements she had made in French Court. He kept them going rapid fire as Willa provided succinct answers.

“Why did you speak against the International Statute of Secrecy?” Mr. Flint asked.

“I did not, sir. I spoke against needless violence and death.” Willa said.

“What are your feelings on Muggles? Would you say you are a Muggle sympathizer?”

“I view Muggles as equal but not the same to magical people, sir.”

“Do you have any Muggle-born family?” he asked.

“No, sir.” She said.

“Were you aware M. Droit was a member of the anti-Muggle group, the Anti-Moldus?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you become aware of that while in Beauxbatons? Did someone tell you?” Mr. Flint asked.

Now Willa did look at Septimus, wondering if she should even respond to the question. He gave her a nod and she looked back to Mr. Flint. He wore a smug little grin now, having seen the interaction and guessing at Willa’s answer. Clearly the Chief Warlock thought he was about to expose Septimus for espionage and collusion, possibly even treason for breaking the Statute of Secrecy somehow.

Willa cleared her throat.

“Yes, someone told me in a conversation at Beauxbatons.”

Septimus held his breath to mask his own confusion. Willa was not answering as he had anticipated.

“Who?” Mr. Flint pressed.

“M. Marcellus Lestrange, the Editor-in-Chief of _Le Sorcier de Paris_ , sir. He escorted me to the Quidditch grounds after interviewing me and the other Triwizard Champions. We spoke during our walk about French politics and his coverage of current affairs in his paper.” Willa said plainly. She furrowed her brow to add, “I believe I saw him here in the courtroom, if you wished to verify my statement.”

Septimus fought a laugh as quite a few mutters and murmurs of chatter rose up among the Wizengamot members. Willa met Marcellus’ eye and he gave her a subtle smile. Cecil grew red and called for order a bit louder than necessary. He pierced Willa with a sharp unforgiving sneer.

“So, you knew M. Droit was part of the Anti-Moldus and you consider Muggles equal to wizards. Is this why you killed him at the Yule Ball?”

“Objection!” Septimus boomed. He shot Willa a stern look, “Do not answer this question.”

Septimus approached Cecil and spoke with total composure.

“Mr. Flint, we both know—as does your Wizengamot—that such a question is outside permissible bounds given the nature of this trial and the defendant’s plea. I think we all can agree the defendant has provided her account as evidence to support her Not Guilty plea by now, including a generous submission to the Court’s innumerable questions of dubious relation to the case at hand. Therefore, I must request that we move forward with proceedings and not waste any more of the Wizengamot’s time.”

Cecil’s tiny nostrils flared as his face grew a strange shade of magenta. The courtroom’s quiet tension hung like heavy fog.

In an exceedingly professional tone, Mr. Flint declared, “Now that the defendant has given her statement and account to defend her plea, we call to the stand the headmistress of Beauxbatons, where the alleged crimes took place, Madam Delphine Lestrange.”

Septimus retreated to his appropriate spot on the floor, exchanging an uneasy glance with Willa once he was turned away from Cecil. They had not anticipated Delphine as a witness.

Delphine took the stand and Willa sat back down in her central chair.

“Madam Lestrange, please give your account of the evening.” Mr. Flint said.

“Yes, monsieur.” She began in a thick accent. “We were all dancing, having a splendid time, the palace looked quite beautiful of course. Then a rushing wind came into the ball room, destroying much of the room. Naturally I ordered everyone to the carriages to flee to safety.”

“A strong wind, you say? Can you describe it?” Mr. Flint asked, even though Willa had quite clearly described it in her own account.

“ _Oui_ , yes. It was unnatural. I, at first, tried to stop it, but I could not because it was dark magic. Someone cast it.” She explained.

“Did you see who?”

“No, monsieur. It was difficult to see anything. My priority became to get all the children to safety.”

“Of course. And did you see the accused board one of the carriages?” Mr. Flint asked.

“No, monsieur.” Delphine shook her head and looked at Willa. “No, I only saw her cousin and friends board. As well as her escort, the Durmstrang Champion, M. Grindelwald.”

“So you never saw Miss Gamp leave the ballroom where M. Droit’s death occurred?”

“No, monsieur. I did not see Mlle. Gamp or M. Malfoy leave the ballroom.” She said pointedly.

A hushed chatter came over the crowd. Marcellus shifted uncomfortably and looked at his sister with an uncharacteristic frown. Willa’s stomach churned. If Marcellus was not in on whatever his sister was setting up, then she had no ally in Delphine.

“Thank you, Madam Lestrange.” Mr. Flint said, barely hiding his smile. He looked to Septimus, “Do you have any question for the witness, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cecil motioned him to begin and Septimus looked directly at Delphine.

“You left the ballroom once the unnatural wind began, correct?”

“Yes, as I have said.”

“So you were not in the ballroom when the alleged crimes took place?”

“Well, I was not.” Delphine smoothed her robes.

“Therefore you could not have witnessed the alleged crimes?” he pressed.

“Not the murder, no. But I was present to see who was not boarding the carriages at the time of the crimes. Mlle. Gamp, yourself, and your children were not present.” Delphine said, earning a nod from Cecil.

“Yes, that is correct. As Miss Gamp explained in her statement before, she, my daughter, and myself were trapped in the ballroom, along with Mr. Braxton Bagshot who remains in critical condition at St. Mungo’s Hospital.” Septimus said. “Tell me, Madam Lestrange, is it normal to be able to apparate and disapparate on Beauxbatons grounds?”

“No, that would hardly make for a secure environment.” Delphine said, flashing a saccharine smile at the Wizengamot.

“I quite agree, which is why I found it surprising when M. Droit and several other masked wizards and witches were able to apparate into the ballroom. There must be a way to disable the restriction. Who would be empowered to do so?”

“Only the head of the school or la Ministre can alter the enchantment.” Delphine said. “Are you suggesting I left my own school vulnerable to attack?”

“Certainly not. I am merely establishing that the school was open to apparation at the time of the attacks, so it is quite impossible to know who was or was not present.” Septimus smiled tightly and looked to Cecil, “No further questions.”

“Thank you, Madam Lestrange. You are dismissed.” Mr. Flint said. “Next, I will call Mr. Virgil Hayward, headmaster of Hogwarts.”

Willa held some hope for Headmaster Hayward to bear a character witness in her favor, but it appeared he was unmoved and unwilling to risk anything. Mr. Flint’s questioning bore little more information than that of Mme. Lestrange. Septimus’ cross-examination providing nothing except to confirm he was not actually present in the ballroom during the crimes. Once the headmaster sat down, it appeared Mr. Flint was out of witnesses.

“Well that seems all we have for witnesses beyond the accused and yourself, Mr. Malfoy. Your account we have already heard in your opening statements. Since you are serving as Miss Gamp’s defense, it appears we do not have an unbiased, third-party account of what was happening inside the ballroom.” He concluded before glancing back at his Wizengamot to add, “No true way of knowing if what the defendant claims happened in fact is what transpired. No true way to know if her crimes were out of self-defense or not.”

Many members of the Wizengamot nodded at this logic, though an equal portion appeared unconvinced.

“It appears it now is time to move to a vote.” Cecil continued.

“Sorry, but the defendant does have a witness to call.” Septimus all but interrupted. “We call Miss Octavia Malfoy, a witness who was in fact present in the ballroom at the time of the alleged crimes and is not held to any legal biases on the matter.”

A noise came from the crowd. They were clearly intrigued Septimus would subject his own daughter to the courtroom, especially since everyone realized by now the entire thing was an obvious power play by Cecil Flint.

Octavia approached the stand with confidence, though Willa noticed her hands trembled a bit.

Septimus gave his daughter a warm smile to comfort her and said, “Miss Malfoy, please tell the courtroom your eye witness account of the evening of the Yule Ball at Beauxbatons.”

Octavia started at the top of the evening with great detail, which the majority of the crowd found exciting and Headmistress Lestrange lapped up, as much of the commentary was praise for the ball’s splendor. Septimus did not hurry Octavia along. He wanted the crowd and Wizengamot to experience the same shock they all had when the night took its dark turn.

Octavia achieved this goal as her still young voice quivered out, “Then the windstorm hit, and when I turned to run, a man in a strange mask stood in my path. He cast a Silencing spell on me before I could scream and disapparated me to another room where a group of masked witches and wizards were waiting. He bound me with a curse. A while later he apparated just me and him back into the ballroom, into total darkness.”

She continued until finally she said, “M. Droit then ordered me to kill my father, and I was trying to fight his Imperius Curse, but I could not.”

Her voice dropped off here as she began to cry. The crowd gasped. Finally Octavia settled herself enough to finish, “If Miss Gamp had not stopped that man, I would be dead. He said their orders were to kill me, my father and my brother. The way I see it, I owe Miss Gamp my life.”

The entire courtroom murmured loudly, clearly appalled at this version of events, and Cecil hurriedly called for silence.

“Miss Malfoy, is it true you were originally not going to be in France over Christmas?” Cecil asked.

“Objection. Relevance?” Septimus interjected.

“It is to establish the court’s understanding of how events unfolded. Overruled.” Cecil said. “Miss Malfoy please answer the question.”

Octavia looked at her father for guidance. Something was off, she could tell by his expression, but he waved her on to speak. _Do not lie_ , she reminded herself.

“I initially was invited by you, sir, to spend Christmas with your family because my own family would be in France.” She said.

“And did you?”

“No, sir. My father ordered me to come to spend Christmas with my family in France instead.”

“Mr. Malfoy required you to be in France at the time of the attack?”

“I... he wanted me there. He wanted our family to spend Christmas together.”

“Thank you, Miss Malfoy. Now tell me, how do you think you could function as so critical a piece to this so-called plot to assassinate the Malfoy family when you did not have intention to be in France until mere days before going?”

“Objection! This is conjecture that she is not qualified to respond to. She is fifteen not a trained member of the Wizengamot!”

“This is the second time you have objected to inform me that I am not following procedure, Mr. Malfoy. Am I to understand that you are calling into question how I run my courtroom?” Cecil said.

Septimus fumed silently. Willa silently willed him to swallow his pride and tell the man no.

“If you do not agree with this trial’s fairness, then push for a retrial.” Cecil shrugged and moved as if to pack up his things.

A retrial would be impossible not to mention send Willa to Lower Azkaban for holding in the meantime. She would not be allowed to stay with Septimus after he stood as her defense today.

“Sir, please, forgive me. I am not calling into question how you run your courtroom.” Septimus said garnering a shocked murmur from the crowd who had never seen the man humble himself before.

“Very well. Miss Malfoy please answer my previous question. Do you need me to repeat it?” 

“No, sir. I remember it.” She said. “I do not know the answer however, as I was not privileged to any of the French wizards’ planning.”

“How are you certain they were planning?”

“M. Droit told the others that they had specific orders and could not kill Willa.” Octavia said. As soon as she said it, she realized her mistake, but it was too late.

“So, the orders were to not kill the accused?” Cecil confirmed and looked at Willa, “Why would you claim self-defense if the orders were specifically not to kill you?”

“I did not hear these orders, sir.” Willa lied. Grateful she had not specified any piece of this in her original account, she wove the story into what she had already relayed, “Mr. Bagshot and I were attacked with a Blasting curse just after we attempted to disarm M. Droit. When I regained consciousness, I heard M. Droit curse Miss Malfoy and order her to kill Mr. Malfoy.”

“So you attacked M. Droit with the Killing Curse not knowing whether or not he or the others intended to kill you?”

“I had just been attacked by him and the others. It is my sincere belief that if I had not acted as I did, the four British citizens who were in that room would be dead today.” Willa said.

Cecil was finally quiet. He had not anticipated Willa to be more poignant a speaker than Septimus, especially not after her straightforward tone during her original account. No wonder the French Court paid her so much mind. With such an emotional testimony from Miss Malfoy, he recognized antagonizing Willa further now would only weaken his movements against Septimus.

“I have no further questions for the final witness.” He said quickly. “Miss Malfoy, you are dismissed.”

Octavia exited the stand and Quintus led her out to the Floo Network to take home before he returned to the courtroom for the verdict.

“Do you have any closing remarks, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir.” He said and moved closer to the Wizengamot, pacing before them and making eye contact as he spoke. “Miss Gamp has summed it up well, that the people attacked by the French officials were British citizens. Moreover, three are students, one of whom remains in critical condition at St. Mungo’s and may in fact die. If he does, I do not expect le Ministère to hold a trial against their own officials for Mr. Bagshot’s murder. As a witness to this heinous attack, I watched as Miss Gamp bravely defended four British lives, including her own, against hostile French forces. Miss Gamp is the valiant hero of this horrific event, not the villain. I implore you all to set aside any prejudices you may hold against me or my family and view this as what it was: an attack on British lives.”

The crowd was moved, and clearly many members of the Wizengamot were too. Cecil quickly called for order to quell any heartfelt sentiments from blossoming through discussion between those against and those newly in favor.

“Let us give our judgements.” He said hastily. “The accused has plead not guilty to the use of an Unforgivable Curse and to the murder of a high-ranking foreign official. Those who find her guilty of use of the Killing Curse?”

A gasp went from the crowd as a large group of the Wizengamot raised their wands with a flourish to mark their vote. Their votes magically tallied on the parchment before the Chief Warlock, a method introduced by Minister Crowdy to eliminate the calls for a re-vote during the heated trials of the Muggle mass murders during his term.

“Those who find her not guilty?”

The rest of the judges raised their wands with a flourish. It was too close for Willa or Septimus to count. Cecil showed the parchment bearing the tally to a courtroom page for transparency then asked, “Those who find her guilty of murder?”

Less members raised their wands this time, but it was still unclear if it was a majority or not.

After the votes were cast, Cecil again showed the page the parchment, then stood to announce the verdicts.

“The accused is found guilty on both accounts. The highest punishment for the crime of murder of a high-ranking foreign government official is immediate execution, however I do not feel this punishment appropriate for the circumstances and am granting the minimum punishment for this crime and the crime of using an unforgivable curse, a life sentence in Azkaban.”

Time stood still for Willa and Septimus, who immediately looked to one another with disbelief and horror in their eyes. The magic-dampening cage appeared around her as he ran across the courtroom’s floor, and in that instant a gasp of shock went from the crowd followed by an eruption of vocalized concern. A cacophony of questions amongst the hundreds in attendance:

_“Who was this government protecting: Britain or France?”_

_“Was this the start of Septimus Malfoy’s downfall?”_

_“What now distinguished self-protection from murder?”_

_“Was it fair to sentence a seventeen-year-old to life in prison?”_

_“Where was Ardan Gamp?”_

A declaration in French emerged over the English chatter as the well-heeled Frenchman nobody seemed to know yelled, “ _Quel pays d'ingrats! Dieu vous préserve.”_ It was Vincent, who fixed Artemisia Lufkin with an unforgiving glare before heading for the exit to go await Septimus in his London townhome. Artemisia shrank under his look. Though she had voted Willa as innocent, Vincent’s judgment forced her to question how she could have done more to persuade the Wizengamot of Willa’s character before the trial.

Above all that noise of shock and confusion and anger, came a piercing wail of despair. It was only then that Willa realized her mother was present. She dared not look towards her for she could not bear to see her grief over another child lost. This time again, it was entirely Willa’s doing.

Septimus found Willa’s hands through the cage’s bars and she trembled even harder as his touch secured for her that this was really happening. Their eyes remained locked and she saw he fought his tears more successfully than she could.

“I swear I will get you out of there.” Septimus said, his voice held such assurance she believed him.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“Yes, I love you.” Septimus nodded and squeezed her hands tighter. “Carry that with you. Remember, Expecto Patronum.”

Willa nodded and repeated, “Expecto Patronum.”

“They are going to take you now. Stay strong.” He said softly.

“I will carry you with me.” She said, removing her right hand from his grasp to cover her heart with it.

Septimus smiled at her and she smiled back, as both memorized the other’s features one last time before the floor opened beneath her and they were forced to let go of one another.

The chamber beneath the courtroom was very well lit and full of house elves and Aurors. The house elves, accustomed to dangerous and threatening criminals, could not mask their shock at such a young and beautiful prisoner. Wide-eyed and silent, they ushered her to a changing area where Willa was forced to strip down to her undergown and given a gray prison robe all while being supervised by a female Auror. The Auror searched her for any hidden wands, weapons, or personal belongings, all of which Willa had left securely in Septimus’ possession, then deemed her ready for transport to Azkaban.

* * *

After Willa was truly gone, Septimus beelined it for the exit. His progress was abruptly halted by Dipsas Gamp, who approached him with fury and slapped him hard in the face.

“The most powerful wizard in Britain and you failed to save both my daughter and Byron’s wife. If only Ardan were allowed in court, he would have defended them both to walk free.” Dipsas cried.

She slapped him again and again, and he did not stop her, knowing he deserved it. Eventually she exhausted of her burning anger too much to continue. Her slaps stung in a raw, lingering tingle against his cheeks.

He looked her in the eye and asked, “What do you want?”

“I want my daughter back, you fool.” Dipsas hissed.

“As do I.” he said plainly. Dipsas furrowed her brow, strikingly similar to how Willa looked when she was surprised. He swallowed hard, fighting tears as he managed, “Now if you will excuse me, I plan to go figure out how to do that.”

He pushed past her towards the door at full speed, eager to be rid of this crowd of lecherous purists and certainly unwilling to let them see how broken he was. He could hear Quintus’ voice behind him, likely speaking to Dipsas, but did not turn to confirm.

“Let him go.” Quintus said, stepping in front of Mrs. Gamp to block her pathway to his father.

“Move, child.” She snarled.

“No.” Quintus said sharply.

“You are a fool to defend him.” She hissed at the boy who too greatly resembled his father for her to feel any sympathy. “He is a snake.”

“You must think yourself important, spitting venom like this about a man you know nothing about.” Quintus said in a calm, quiet tone. “You should not return to England.”

“Are you threatening me? Lila’s son? Do not make me laugh.” Dipsas said, emitting a chilling laugh.

Quintus moved close to her and whispered next to her ear, “I know what your husband and my mother did, and unlike my father, I lack any empathy towards either. So, you may wish to curb your laughter.”

He stepped back and locked her gaze in his own in a threatening way.

“The Gamp family does not respond well to threats, Mr. Malfoy.” Dipsas said coldly.

“I noticed.” Quintus said, equally cold.

Mr. Bagshot arrived then to separate them.

“Come now, Dipsas, let us get you back to your sister’s for a nice cup of tea. There is much to discuss.” Byron said, putting his hands on her shoulders to shift her perspective. It worked, and she looked at him with a nod, realizing how public this display had become.

“Yes, do go with him.” Quintus said, now smiling broadly as he added, “And you might work to change your perspective on my family, for if I am not mistaken, we are to be related, you and I, Mrs. Gamp.”

Dipsas glared at him, unsure what he meant, but Quintus merely bowed and turned to follow the path his father had taken minutes before out the door and to the Floo Network.

Octavia intercepted him as soon as he emerged from the fireplace.

“We need to go.” She said, shoving him back into the green flames.

He had only long enough to make out Vincent’s thoughts, which were a blur of helplessness and anger, through the audible sound of his father’s sobs before his sister said, “St. Mungo’s” and dropped a pinch of Floo powder.

When they emerged in the hospital, Quintus protested, “I need to be there for father right now. He needs to know we support him.”

“M. Saint-Just asked me to give them privacy. That our father would not want us to see him in such a state.” Octavia shook her head and pulled Quintus along with her since he looked like he was about to go back into the Floo Network. She added softly, “I cannot say I disagree with him.”

Quintus sighed and followed along. The witch at the registration desk merely nodded to Octavia as they passed, then scribbled down their names on the check in sheet. They came daily to visit Braxton, and Octavia usually at length.

As they reached the door to Braxton’s room, Quintus pulled her back to him and looked her in the eyes. She had been crying, he finally noticed, and he asked her, “Are you alright? Should we wait a moment before we go in?”

In the period of hesitation Octavia went through while she processed through several emotions, Quintus could hear two other people’s thoughts inside Braxton’s room. He was grateful he had stopped Octavia because it was Clement and Rigel, and he could tell they were kissing. The friendship she and Rigel had formed while Quintus was in France was not close enough for him to reveal his relationship with Clement to her. At least none of her thoughts had portrayed this in the past week.

“Yes, I am fine.” Octavia said finally.

He knew she was not, but it was due to her guilt over not wanting to stay and witness their father in his distress. She thought herself a bad daughter, but also remained angry that their father was in love with her schoolmate, despite her public declarations to the contrary. She had been using Willa’s fame to her advantage that autumn to gain popularity, and now it might all backfire when people learned the truth. This made her feel even more guilt in that she was relieved Willa would not be back in Hogwarts. Quintus was finding it difficult to sympathize with his sister, especially given that Willa had now twice saved her life and was paying an unjust price for it.

He knocked on the door to warn the boys inside.

“There is no need to knock,” Octavia rolled her eyes. “He does not even know we—”

She stopped midsentence as she saw Braxton had visitors.

“Hello,” Quintus said as he entered behind her. The couple had separated themselves.

“Why are you here?” Clement asked.

“To visit Braxton.” Octavia said. She looked at Rigel to add, “I have not seen you here before.”

“No, my parents have not wanted me out much with the trial going on. I finally moved into the house I inherited from my Uncle Pollux though, so they cannot protest any longer.” Rigel said.

“I saw you at the trial. I am so sorry about your cousin.” Quintus said to Rigel. Clement had not attended.

Rigel nodded his thanks. His eyes were red and swollen with recent tears. Quintus wondered how Elnath was handling this but knew he had lost the right to inquire. She had not been at the trial either.

“How is your father holding up?” Rigel asked.

Quintus saw that Rigel did not know about his father and Willa’s relationship, but was concerned about his aunt’s actions in the courtroom and how this might impact his own future apprenticeship’s status.

“He is inconsolable. That is why we left to come here and give him space to grieve.” Quintus said simply.

“I hope he regains himself soon.” Rigel said with a nod.

“Thank you,” Quintus said.

“Have you told him what happened?” Octavia asked, her eyes on Braxton.

“Yes.” Clement said. He pushed a strand of hair back from Braxton’s forehead and added, “He did not respond at all.”

“Well, he deserved to know.” Octavia said.

Clement nodded, still looking at his comatose best friend. Rigel gave Clement’s shoulder a squeeze.

Quintus could read Braxton’s mind and knew he was not aware of anything happening around him. He was in a dream state, reliving moments with his mother or perhaps inventing them. He wondered if Braxton would remember any of their time together as kids, or if his father’s obliviation was entirely irreversible for someone who was not a Legilimens. Octavia could not remember anything.

“I am having some people over tonight, if you two wanted to come?” Rigel said after a long moment of silence.

“I do not think any Malfoys are welcome at your house right now.” Quintus said with a small smile.

“No, not at my father’s house. At the house I inherited.” Rigel clarified.

“Will Elnath be there?” Quintus asked.

“She is invited, but she knows Arlo Potter is as well.” Rigel said. “So, I do not know if she will attend.”

“We should go.” Octavia said to Quintus. “Who cares if Elnath is there or not? She is with Patrice now anyway. Besides, you are engaged.”

“Engaged?” Rigel asked. “To Catherine Avery?”

“Yes, as of November.” Quintus forced a happy smile. “Not many people know.”

“Well, she is welcome as well.” Rigel smiled.

“Thank you, but I think she will be busy with her family tonight.” Quintus said.

In truth, he would never subject Catherine to so much emotion, all heightened by alcohol and drugs. It would drive her mad for certain, and he wondered if it would be too much for himself as well. But he could read Octavia was set on going, and her intentions were not innocent fun, but rather social gains. Arlo Potter was apparently her new male of interest. That meant he had to go and keep an eye on her.

“I see. Well, hopefully we will see you two there.” Rigel smiled, standing and giving Clement a look to indicate they should leave. He added, “The address is 12 Grimmauld Place in Islington. The fireplace’s registration is not current in the Floo Network, however, so you will have to be discreet in coming to the front door. It is in a Muggle neighborhood. Seven o’clock.”

After Rigel and Clement left, Octavia sat beside Braxton and took his hand in her own.

“Hello, cousin.” She said quietly. “I wish you could come tonight.”

Suddenly Braxton’s mind was present.

“Keep talking to him.” Quintus said quietly.

“We are going to Rigel Black’s new house in Islington. All your friends will be there.” Octavia continued. “I think it will be fun, a break from the day’s terrible events.”

Braxton was glad to hear Rigel had moved out of Black Manor so quickly, but confused about what events had happened today. Quintus sat beside his sister and started to answer his questions without revealing that he could read minds. It would be much harder to keep an eye on Octavia if she knew he was reading her thoughts all the time.

“Rigel seemed glad to be in the new house.” He said, then fought a laugh at Braxton’s reaction and replied, “I am certain his father is angry about it. He seems to be angry about everything, does he not?”

“He really does.” Octavia laughed.

“As for Willa…” Quintus trailed off and looked at Octavia, “You should tell him. He should hear it from you as well as Clement.”

Octavia nodded and looked at Braxton with sadness.

“Willa was found guilty and sent to Azkaban for life.” She said softly.

Braxton made no physical reaction, but his thoughts were so terror-struck that Quintus instinctively leaned over to hug him.

“I am so sorry, Brax.” He whispered. “I know you love her. It is truly horrible.”

This helped Braxton calm down, but his peacefulness in Quintus’ embrace caused the latter to finally breakdown. He pulled back from his half-cousin quickly as he choked out a sob.

“Brother, calm down.” Octavia said, stiff-lipped still.

“It is so awful though.” Quintus managed. “Father was so happy with her. He was finally whole again. And now she is gone.”

“She is not gone.” Octavia said so fiercely Quintus looked at her. “Father will find a way to get her back. Do not lose faith in him now.”


	30. New Year's Eve

Quintus and Octavia arrived by broomstick to 12 Grimmauld Place around nine o’clock. Quintus still felt inappropriate to attend a party after Willa had been sent to prison earlier that day, but their poor father’s state right now was exceptionally painful to witness, and Octavia essentially declared herself going with or without him. Obviously, he could not allow her to go unchaperoned at age fifteen.

They were greeted by the house elf Rigel had inherited with the house, who took their coats and broomsticks and ushered them towards the front parlour. Once Quintus looked inside the parlour, he immediately was furious with Rigel when he saw that Octavia was by far the youngest person there. In fact, he, with his seventeenth birthday not until May, was likely the second youngest! If he had known how dangerous this might be for her, he would never have allowed her to come, especially not after today’s events. It was made much worse by the fact that she had physically matured greatly in the mere two months he was at Beauxbatons and now looked much older than fifteen. It was too late now though, and he could only hope the older crowd would intimidate or bore her.

Quintus only recognized two people who were still at Hogwarts, the Head Girl, Bridgette McGregor, and Thomas Greengrass, who was smoking opium and conversing in Russian with some man who looked twenty-five. Neither Hogwarts student noticed the Malfoys walk in.

“Maybe Abigail is here.” Octavia said after noticing Thomas. Quintus was relieved that her thoughts were those of concern not excitement regarding her age in this company.

“Maybe so,” Quintus said quietly. “Let us go find Rigel.”

They walked past the parlour down the entry foyer to the dining room and found a full spread on one end of the ornately carved table and a plethora of alcoholic options on the other. Quintus added their bottle of Ogden’s to the group of firewhiskys just as Rigel walked in the room with Clement in tow.

“You made it!” he cried and leaned to kiss Quintus and then Octavia each on the cheek. If Quintus could not read how clear his mind was, he would have assumed Rigel was drunk.

“We did, yes. I brought some Ogden’s, already put it there.” Quintus gestured to his bottle.

“Thank you, very thoughtful.” Rigel nodded.

“This is larger than I expected.” Quintus said with a forced laughed.

“Yes, there are even more people upstairs. It got a little out of hand with too many people inviting other people. I do not even know everyone here, truth be told. But people want to forget their troubles. It is New Year’s Eve after all.” Rigel nodded with a smile. “Listen, there are four floors, though the bedrooms are on three and four, so probably leave those alone. I own everything, but nothing is mine, if that makes any sense.”

“Absolutely,” Octavia nodded enthusiastically. “Is Abigail Greengrass here? I saw her brother in the parlour.”

“No, I did not invite her. She is too young for this type of party.” Rigel said. It was then he realized Octavia was younger than Abigail by a couple of months. He looked at Quintus with remorse, and Quintus just shook his head and shrugged.

“Let us pour ourselves a drink and go discover the rest of the house, Octavia.” Quintus said.

She agreed, and he hoped she would bore of the party after one drink so they could leave. Not that he particularly wanted to go home and hear all his father’s thoughts tonight. He would much rather go see Catherine and lie together on her bed in silence while they communicated in the way only they could. The ease of sharing a bed with her certainly was the one thing he would miss most about Beauxbatons.

Unfortunately, Arlo Potter walked into the dining room at that moment and all of Octavia’s anxieties disappeared in favor of flirtatious confidence. Even more unfortunate, Arlo’s thoughts were somewhat impure about his little sister’s newfound bosom.

Quintus let out a sigh right before she said to him, “I think I will stay down here for a moment longer.”

“Sure,” he said, putting a cork back in the wine bottle he had just poured a large glass from. “I will be upstairs.”

She nodded with a fun smile and Quintus leaned close to Rigel as he passed him on his way out of the dining room to whisper, “Watch her.”

Rigel nodded his agreement to this, and Quintus ignored the hateful thought Arlo was having about him. Quintus secretly thought Arlo hated him not because Braxton openly did, but because he was interested in Elnath, and Quintus had been with her for so long. Arlo certainly thought about Elnath enough in the fall. Though Quintus wished he was thinking about her tonight instead of his sister. The dynamics of their entire group had changed drastically while he had been in France. It was hard to keep up, even with his extra abilities.

He rolled his eyes as his sister ran several openers through her mind before settling on one, then took a sip of his wine and found the crooked stairwell leading upstairs.

The second floor held more surprises than the first. It featured two large, enclosed rooms, each with the interior wall flanking the stairwell on either side. The separate rooms were an open layout, running from the front to the back of the townhome without any interior walls. These long rooms were joined by the landing at their centers. It essentially served as a passthrough that featured two green sitting chairs and a stunning chandelier Quintus knew his maternal grandfather Mr. Burke would be keen to look at for its resale value.

Elnath sat in one of these velvet-covered green chairs, a full glass of wine in her hand and a blank expression on her face. She was alone, already drunk, thinking about Willa and wondering what was happening to her right now in Azkaban. Quintus wished he could disappear into one of the two rooms without her seeing him, but the only way in was through the landing. He was about to back down the stairs to save her the pain of their imminent interaction entirely, but she looked up and locked eyes with him.

Immediately her thoughts shifted. He saw Rigel had told her he was engaged to Catherine. Elnath began remembering their time together a year ago tonight at Malfoy Manor. The first time they ever had sex. Back before he could read minds; before he became aware of the darkness concealed within her.

Elnath’s anger compounded while she recounted that night more fully. It clouded over her sadness entirely as she started to imagine killing him in a very painful way. He blinked a few times, trying to ignore her murder fantasy while knowing he had earned it by not being honest about why he had left her. Resigned to this consequence of his decision last summer, he walked past her wordlessly into one of the rooms.

The room bustled with laughter and conversation from wizards and witches all older and most of them unfamiliar to Quintus. He noticed a few people from the Ministry who his father had introduced to him. To his relief, none of them had been part of the trial earlier that day, all too young to serve on the Wizengamot. There were also a few other Ministry folks he recognized, but had not been introduced to because they were for the Opposition. Among this particular group was, to his great surprise, Professor Stump. After tuning into them for a moment, he gathered that Grogan had worked with them during his apprenticeship and subsequent position at the Ministry right after leaving Hogwarts four years ago.

“Quintus?” a female voice called from the side of the room he had not surveyed yet. He spun to find Claire Avery, Catherine’s oldest sister, who was twenty-three. They had met several times before when he had called on Catherine last summer.

“Claire!” he called back, a smile of relief spreading across his face.

He went to her, aware now that everyone was staring at him and thinking about how he was Septimus Malfoy’s son. How Wilhelmina Gamp had killed a French official to save his father from being murdered by his own daughter, but today was sent to Azkaban for it. The whispering began a good minute after all of these initial thoughts. Something Quintus was rather accustomed to by now.

He reached Claire and she motioned for him to sit beside her, giving him a knowing smile as she understood his condition and all the annoyance he had been submitted to in the past few minutes.

“How are you? Catherine did not mention you were coming to this.” Claire said.

“No, I only was invited this afternoon. I did not think she would want to come.” He said.

Claire nodded and said, “Quite right.”

There was a pause before she turned to the woman next to her and said, “May I introduce my friend and colleague, Mrs. Prunella Pomfrey. Prunella, this is Mr. Quintus Malfoy. He is engaged to Catherine.”

Quintus happily shook Prunella’s hand saying, “A pleasure to meet you. I find the program you work for to be of great interest. I intend to become a Healer myself.”

Claire and Prunella worked as Healers in St. Mungo’s homebound outreach program that served witches and wizards who could not make the trip to St. Mungo’s itself.

“Oh, how nice! I wish you the best of luck with it.” Prunella said, and Quintus was glad to see that she was being genuine.

The three continued in conversation for some time before Quintus noticed a unanimous shift in the room’s thoughts. Most people were focused on a female newcomer who, from their thoughts, was a vision of beauty and intrigue to behold. Claire and Prunella both had been distracted by the room’s changed attentions, and though Quintus could read some of the visualizations of this person and already determined who she was, he felt obligated by social norms to look at her.

He turned to find Elnath in the doorway as anticipated, her silhouette was stunning in the gown she wore. It had not been apparent when she was sitting before. She surveyed the room, appearing to not notice the attention on her, but he could read that she did and intentionally ignored it. He tore his gaze from her to find Professor Stump in the crowd. It was not difficult to do, as Grogan had paused midsentence with his mouth agape and all his thoughts were on Elnath.

Quintus could tell Elnath had not yet noticed Grogan and realized now that she had been sitting alone in the landing for some time before he had encountered her. She had not even ventured into either room until this moment. He longed to somehow help her, as she clearly felt very lost tonight with Willa gone. Seeing this pain and confusion so plainly in her thoughts, he realized he too was experiencing it.

When Elnath made no movement into the room, the crowd eventually returned to its conversations in a dull buzz. Quintus turned back to the two Healers and said, “That is the sister of Mr. Rigel Black, the host.”

Claire nodded and explained that she knew the Black family due to their generous donation a few years ago that she had to process when she still working in administration. She added nothing more, but Quintus saw that she knew all about his relationship with Elnath through Catherine and gossip. They shared a brief knowing look and he drank more wine.

“ _Mariposa_ , there you are!” a male voice exclaimed loudly in a mix of Spanish and French from the doorway.

The room turned again to find Patrice Fleury wrapping his arm around Elnath’s midsection.

“ _Mi oso!_ I did not know if you would make it.” Elnath replied in French. Her face had brightened immediately in a total transformation from the stoic, statuesque person who stood before the room a moment prior, into someone completely in love.

“But of course! Anything for you, my love.” He said, still in French, and leaned down to kiss her.

Elnath kissed him back shamelessly in front of the entire crowd, pushing her body close against his as she did. It was more intimate than the publicity and tone of the setting permitted, and neither seemed to care in the least. Finally they parted mouths and he said to her, “Penelope and Xabi have come as well. They are in the next room over.”

“Not Hélène?” Elnath asked in French.

“No, her aunt would not permit her out after the trial today.” Patrice explained.

Elnath nodded and laced her fingers into Patrice’s saying, “Let us go to Penelope and Xabi.”

They left with the ease of grace to their movements all the Beauxbatons students had and Elnath had acquired there, and Quintus immediately looked at Grogan. His expression was one of someone who just learned their favorite baby cockatrice had died. His Ministry friends were laughing, mocking the intimacy of Elnath and Patrice, completely oblivious to the fact their former colleague had essentially been hit with a Stunning spell. Quintus wanted to help, but he did not know how. He and Professor Stump were not exactly close, even as a pupil-teacher relationship. He did not particularly care about magical creatures and the fact that Grogan had incessantly fantasized about Elnath during that class made it even less tolerable. Still, he felt terrible for the man now.

“Excuse me,” he said to Claire and Prunella. “I see one of my professors and wish to say hello.”

“Oh, Grogan Stump?” Prunella asked.

“Yes,”

“He is my little brother.” Prunella grinned.

“Oh?” Quintus laughed. “I did not realize he had any siblings.”

“Yes, three older sisters.” She smiled and motioned him away saying, “Well, go say hello then!”

Quintus could tell she had no idea that her brother was deeply attracted to Elnath. He nodded politely to the two women and crossed the room to Grogan and his friends.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Grogan said, surprised to see him. Apparently, he had not seen him come in before.

“I wanted to say hi. I just met your sister.” Quintus said awkwardly. He had not come over with much of a plan, but this awkwardness was sufficient to distract Grogan’s thoughts away from Elnath’s intimate attachment with Patrice.

Professor Stump was at core a Hufflepuff and smiled warmly, moving over to make space for Quintus to sit. Once he sat among the group, Grogan made introductions. Quintus did not commit anyone’s name to memory, except for the girl on the other side of Grogan, named Althea Abbot. Between the two’s minds, he deciphered she and Grogan were attached during sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and for a year after that during their apprenticeships. Quintus could also see she clearly had interest in rekindling their relationship upon seeing Grogan tonight, which was something Grogan had not yet picked up on.

“Your father is Septimus Malfoy?” Althea asked him.

“Yes,” Quintus said, bracing for what might come next. Willa was much better than him at holding her own in these types of situations. He had observed her time and time again seamlessly defend Septimus while not damaging her own family name or revealing her relationship with him. He felt another pang of sadness and then guilt that he was here and not at home with his father and drank more wine to mask it.

“I heard about the trial. It is really horrific what has happened to Ardan Gamp’s child.” Althea said, surprising Quintus, who nodded solemnly in agreeance. Althea leaned in and said, “I also heard your sister was put under the Imperius Curse?”

“What?” Grogan reacted to this, not having heard this part of the story yet.

“Yes, she was placed under the Imperius Curse by a French official, then commanded to kill my father.” Quintus said tightly. Saying it aloud made him even angrier.

“What has happened to the man? She is the daughter of a Ministry official, surely that is a high-level crime?” Grogan asked.

“He is dead.” Althea said softly. “Ardan’s daughter killed him to break the Imperius Curse. That is what they put her in Azkaban for.”

“And yes, it is a high-level crime. Some might consider it an attack on the British government.” Quintus said coldly. “My father was waiting to see how Miss Gamp’s trial went before pressing charges against Beauxbatons and _le Ministère_.”

The group all looked at him now, their thoughts a mixture of shock, awe, and fear. In their minds, if his father pressed charges, it would likely mean a war between their two countries.

“The last thing my father wants is a war.” Quintus said. No one believed this, so he added, “In fact he has made so many enemies in France because he has been attempting to stop the war they are having there.”

Still their thoughts, including Grogan’s, remained skeptical of his father’s ability to have good intentions.

“I am sure though,” Quintus began in a harsher voice than he intended, “You all think my father a purist and Ardan Gamp to be the savior of Muggles. That Ardan’s arrival at Beauxbatons the exact day a Muggle hate group attacked the school was mere coincidence.”

“Quintus, come with me to get a refill.” Grogan said, pulling Quintus to his feet. It was only once he was standing that Quintus realized he was shaking with anger. Grogan dragged him along, out of the room, and then pushed him towards the stairwell that went upward to the third floor.

They climbed in silence and Grogan opened the first door they came to and went inside, casting “ _Lumos_ ” to light what was a dusty bedroom with a poster framed bed.

“I think you should go home.” Grogan said calmly, turning to him.

“I did not even want to come here. I only came to keep an eye on my sister.” Quintus growled. Grogan’s immediate thought was that he was not doing a good job of that and Quintus nearly lost it. Instead he muttered out, “I left her with Rigel, who is completely sober.”

“Still, you probably should collect her and go home. You have had a long day.” Grogan said. He was thinking that Quintus was telling too many things to people he did not know. People he probably should not trust. People who had admitted to Grogan just that night their hope that Septimus Malfoy would fall from power and now it looked like he would. Enemies of the Malfoy family.

“Everyone is my enemy. Every single person I encounter already hates me before they meet me.” Quintus said, which caused Grogan to wonder if he was using legilimency on him and try to implement occlumency. Not that it mattered for Quintus, but Grogan was terrible at it. Quintus continued, “But you would not understand that because you are handsome and pleasant and well-liked. You have no family name to uphold and nothing to lose. You would not understand what Willa and I have been through because you do not know pain.”

He drank his remaining wine and stared at Grogan, whose mouth had fallen open, but all his words were stuck in his throat.

“You do not know what the Cruciatus Curse feels like under your skin or how your sister looks when she is being contorted in pain by your mother. You do not know any of this. So, do not tell me I should go home. That I should not defend my father’s honor to people who will never like me no matter how good I am. How good he is. How good she is.” Quintus’ anger grew hotter. The injustice of it all overcoming him fully as he yelled, “And they still took her away! Like it was a sport!”

He threw his empty wine glass across the room with a blind fury. It shattered against the wall and he collapsed to the ground saying, “They still took her.” over and over as the sobs he had been holding in burst forth.

Grogan stood there awkwardly for a moment before his sense of compassion overcame his lack of familiarity with Quintus. He sat beside him on the bedroom floor and rubbed the boy’s back soothingly. Quintus could see he thought that he was in love with Willa. He did not correct him. He did love her, just not at all in the way Grogan was thinking now. He loved her because of how happy she made his father. They had finally gotten their father back from his perpetual state of melancholy, and now that had been taken away. This brought on a new wave of tears and Quintus wished Grogan would just leave and let him cry alone.

A familiar giggle and squeal came from the stairwell and Quintus worked to quickly regain his composure as he knew Elnath would likely burst in on this bedroom at any moment. Grogan whispered, “ _Nox,”_ leaving the pair hidden in darkness with a clear view of the lit hallway.

Elnath stumbled into the hallway with Patrice, essentially one unit of entwined limbs. The French boy pressed her against the hallway’s wall and started to kiss her neck. She made a contented noise and then bit his earlobe, causing Patrice to whisper something in her ear.

“More than you know.” She replied in French then slid out from under him and pulled him deeper into the hallway saying, “My aunt’s old room was down here.”

Quintus expected Grogan’s thoughts to be those of jealousy or anger. On the contrary, Grogan was relieved to see Elnath was sexually active. It meant he could fantasize about her the way he wanted to, without feeling so inappropriate for it.

Quintus did not want to be around Grogan when his thoughts slipped too far in this direction, so he stood and said quietly into the darkness, “I should go.”

* * *

M. Saint-Just and their father were both asleep when Quintus and Octavia got home. Quintus could hear Vincent’s dream as they passed the guest room where Willa had been assigned to sleep just this morning. Her dress from the Yule Ball was probably still hanging in the wardrobe.

When they reached the third-floor hallway that led to their bedrooms, Octavia asked, “Should we sleep with father tonight? Like when mother first died?”

Quintus weighed it a moment and then nodded, “I think so.”

“I agree. I will see you down there.” She said and went to change into her night clothes.

Quintus entered his room and stripped off his clothing. He had a partial erection and locked the door while deciding to handle it or try and make it go away. Elnath’s face as Patrice kissed her neck popped into his mind, quickly followed by Grogan’s thoughts about her. Grogan clearly had more experience than Quintus because his ideas of what to do with Elnath were all foreign to him, even after having spent so much time around the thoughts of the far more progressive Beauxbatons students. Quintus picked one of Grogan’s ideas and reassigned Catherine to the role, pressing a hand to the bedpost to brace himself and closing his eyes until he finished.

He vanished the mess and breathed deeply a few times, debating to go down to his father’s or not. He had promised Octavia though, and he was certain tonight would bring his father nightmares. He did not want Octavia to have to deal with that alone.

When he arrived in his nightclothes to his father’s bedroom, Octavia was already asleep beside him, slightly burrowed into his chest. Vincent had done a good job putting him to bed, as there were no lingering bottles of firewhisky and a full glass of water was placed by the bed.

His father was whimpering, in the middle of a nightmare as Quintus had predicted. Dementors were chasing him through a dark forest and Willa was calling for him in a desperate voice. He kept trying to cast a patronus but continued to fail to produce one successfully.

Quintus slid behind his father in the bed and pressed his body to his back to comfort him. It worked and the panic of the nightmare dissipated for his father, who finally could produce a corporeal patronus in the dream in the form of a thestral.

* * *

Unlike those in Septimus’ dream, the dementors in Azkaban were very real. Despite the training Septimus had given her, Willa soon realized she was wholly unprepared to handle their hourly attacks. The prison itself was a massive tower built on an island in the middle of the sea. A storm continued to brew outside, the wind whipping into the paneless window of her cell. She huddled against the cell door, which was the warmest part of the small room, and tried to relax. Sleep would be impossible, she had realized two hours ago, but she needed to regulate her energy so she was ready for the next hour’s dementor visit.

She focused on her breathing the way she used to when her father used the Cruciatus Curse on her. After a few minutes, she fell into a state of meditation and pictured Septimus smiling in her mind. “Let it fill you up” his voice rang out in her head. “Stay strong.” She continued to breathe.

Time passed quickly in this peaceful state, too quickly. A new hour approached and the room became colder, ice forming first on the window’s iron bars then spreading down the stone wall and onto the floor. She opened her eyes and saw the dreadful hooded creature outside the window. It felt like it was staring into her soul, but she could not see its face. They were all like this, so perhaps it was the same dementor each time. She did not know. What she did know was that there was no point in casting a patronus because she was too weak, and the dementor would leave after it toyed with her for a bit. Then another hour. Repeat.

She let out a ragged breath and the cell went black. Suddenly she was transformed somewhere else, the forest of Ohio Country. Always back to this same spot. The memory was further along this time, Ciaran and Opala already dead on the ground.

“Willa, what happened?” her father asked her.

She spun around, terrified, unable to respond as she met his black eyes.

“Is she your first Muggle kill?” he asked in a softer voice, moving closer to her. His hand went to her shoulder to comfort her.

Willa nodded, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. Her father lifted her chin so she would be forced to look at him.

“No tears, my beautiful daughter. This is a good day.” He said tenderly.

“No, father.” She whispered.

“I am so proud of you.” He said and kissed her forehead.

“Father,” she said. “Ciaran.”

“I see that.” He sighed. “Look at me.”

Willa did.

“He made his own fate by loving that filth.” He said darkly. “You did well.”

Willa gasped desperately as if she had been underwater. Her lungs burned with a smack of frozen air and the flowing hems of the dementor’s cloak could be seen passing out of the window frame. She hugged herself tightly, trying to find Septimus’ voice again. All she could hear though was her father. “I am so proud of you” he kept saying in her head. She knew she deserved to be in here. To suffer every hour like this. She deserved worse.

Ten minutes later she could feel the warmth of the cell door. “Stay strong” Septimus whispered in her head. She nodded and said out loud, “I will. I will.” She began to focus on her breathing, closing her eyes and picturing Septimus’ face. His smile. His eyes. She nodded again and said, “I will.”

The room grew cold again, the ice reforming as it always did. She did not look at the dementor this time. Darkness overcame her again. Back to Ohio Country.

“I am so proud of you, Willa.” Her father said.

Willa smiled and nodded, “Thank you, father. Your praise means a lot.”

“I knew you would arrive to this moment soon. I could feel it growing within you, faster than before.” He said to her.

“It felt good. Is it strange to feel that way?” Willa smiled sheepishly at her father.

“Not at all.” He said, smiling now with a beaming pride. “No, quite the opposite. That is how it is meant to feel when you purge this world of its filth.”

Willa embraced her father and he hugged her tightly back.

“I will handle cleaning this up for you. Go to your mother and stay in the house. Do not speak of any of this to her. She is unclean and will not understand unless I am the one to tell her.” He said as he held her in his arms.

Willa nodded and disapparated to their house.

“Mother!” she called, desperate and panicked, eyes wildly searching for her mother. “Mother we must go! Father has gone mad.”

Willa gasped for air, the dementor having passed. She felt less empty this time than the last dementor visit, her mind fast at work. _What was that final part with my mother?_ It was nothing she had ever remembered before. Was the dementor making her remember more of the night? Septimus had explained they used them here to force you into reliving your worst memories. Had something worse happened than killing Ciaran and Opala?

Her heart beat fast with horror. She did not want to know what else she had done. _What could be worse? What could be worse than murdering my brother?_

She was trembling, holding herself now. Terrified of the next visit.


	31. Back to Hogwarts

Hogwarts felt all wrong from the moment Elnath reentered its halls. The lack of Willa and even of Braxton made the entire castle feel empty. She had masked her emotions, putting on a smile for Patrice, Penelope, and Xabier as she gave them the tour and situated them into their living quarters. Due to the trial’s outcome, Hélène’s father had not decided if she should go to Hogwarts or just be home schooled by him in Paris, so she remained with him in London for the moment as classes did not start for a few more days. Likewise Quintus and Octavia were yet to return as well, though Elnath doubted Mr. Malfoy would home school them, especially with Octavia taking her O.W.L. examinations this year.

The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would be staying separate of the Hogwarts students in their own magically enlarged quarters. Mr. Norris had designed it all over the break, and even in her unhappy state, Elnath could admit the Caretaker did an excellent job. The Beauxbatons quarters had the same airiness to them that the palace always did in France, and her three friends breathed relief as they marveled at their space’s beautiful use of magic.

It was not until breakfast the first day of classes when Hélène and the Malfoy children arrived at the school. Penelope received an owl from Hélène the day before confirming she would be attending. The children were accompanied by their fathers, and somehow all managed to enter the Great Hall at nearly the same time, clearly in search of Headmaster Hayward.

Elnath could barely swallow her pumpkin juice when she saw Mr. Malfoy. He looked exactly the way she felt inside; devoid of happiness and hardened with anger.

“He looks terrible.” Rigel murmured under his breath.

Elnath nodded silently and set down her fork, her appetite entirely gone.

M. Lestrange approached Mr. Malfoy, hands outstretched as if to offer his apologies or condolences. They were too far away to hear, but Mr. Malfoy’s reaction did not require sound. His eyes narrowed into a menacing glare and his arms stretched back as if to shield both his children from M. Lestrange.

“Septimus, Marcellus, I am glad to see you both.” Headmaster Hayward’s voice cut through the tension. The men looked at him and he continued, “Come, let us go to my office to speak. Classes begin in fifteen minutes.”

The Headmaster nodded to Hélène, Quintus, and Octavia, smiling as he said, “Do you all know your schedules?”

“Yes, sir.” they all replied.

“Headmistress Lestrange is just over there.” The headmaster pointed her out to Hélène, who curtsied to both the headmaster and her father, then flitted off to her aunt and the Beauxbatons students.

Rigel waved to Quintus and Octavia, who then started over to him, and Elnath let out a sigh. She had forgotten Rigel had befriended Octavia in her absence that fall. She stood and said, “I am going to find Patrice. We have our first class together.”

“You should play nice. They have been through quite an ordeal.” Rigel whispered quickly.

“Do not tell me how to behave. I was attacked, too.” Elnath hissed at him. Her parents did not seem to think it traumatic that she was in the Yule Ball attacks herself. Everything had been focused entirely on Willa at first, and then on Mr. Malfoy’s possible fall from power, which affected their standing in society. In all of it, Willa was the only one to even ask her to recount the events. No one else seemed to care and neither Patrice nor Penelope wished to discuss the Yule Ball at all. She threw her bag over her shoulder and left the Great Hall, giving a curt nod to Octavia and Quintus as she went.

By the time second period rolled around, Elnath was feeling more depressed than she had yet. Even Patrice’s kisses before and after their first class could not lift her spirits for long. She arrived in the forest for Care of Magical Creatures right as class began and ignored the greetings of both Clement and Quintus, choosing instead to stare wordlessly at Professor Stump.

He was introducing a series of lessons on Granians, which were a very familiar creature to most of the wealthier students, albeit not the wild kind. Professor Stump led everyone to a clearing just outside the forest, somewhat near his cottage, where a herd of them grazed. He explained the gray colored winged horses had been relocated to Hogwarts after getting too close to a Muggle community near Ipswich. Today they were only meant to observe and take field notes, which Elnath was glad for because she did not feel like speaking to anyone or reflecting on how Willa was not present in this class they had always gossiped during.

In addition to the Granians’ behavior, Elnath observed that Professor Stump spoke with Quintus for longer than what she deemed normal. The conversation seemed uncomfortable on both ends, but she was forced to look away when both of them looked directly at her from across the clearing.

Finally class ended and she could go to Potions. That and a visit to the Chamber of Secrets after dinner were the only two things she was looking forward to today. Her first day back at the castle, visiting the basilisks with Rigel had been her first activity after shaking the Beauxbatons’ students. They were all doing well, and the two children had been very excited to meet her.

“A moment, please, Miss Black.” Professor Stump said to her as she bent to pick up her bag.

She noticed Quintus glance between them briefly before leaving and determined they definitely had been talking about her earlier. What about, she could not even begin to guess.

“Yes?” Elnath said to Professor Stump once they stood alone in the clearing.

“I wanted to check in with you. See how you are doing?” he said, drawing out the word ‘doing’ as if he planned to say more, but decided against it.

“I am fine.” Elnath lied. When she could see he was unconvinced, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

Grogan moved closer to her and said more quietly, “Yes, but I saw you on New Year’s Eve and you did not seem fine.”

Elnath flared red. “You were at Rigel’s party? I did not see you.”

“No, I imagine not.” Grogan smirked. “You were a bit too…”

“Wanton?” Elnath interjected dryly, crossing her arms over her chest. Someone at the party had talked to her mother about how publicly she had been kissing Patrice and she had sat through at least seven lectures in two days on the topic of public image and promiscuity.

Now Grogan turned pink and stumbled to say, “Oh, um, no, I was going to say inebriated. You were incredibly drunk.”

“Oh.” Elnath said, relaxing some.

“Your wantonness does not bother me.” He said easily. Elnath’s eyes widened and he realized what he had just said, blushing fully red as he hastily added, “That… that came out wrong.”

Elnath fell into laughter, unable to contain it, and found it a much needed reprieve from her anxiety. Grogan laughed with her, relieved she was not going to make him pay for his misworded remark. He had meant it to be comforting, to assure her that her reputation was not tainted for him.

“Truly though,” Grogan began after collecting himself. “I felt, and perhaps I am out of turn, but I felt your behavior was out of character and I worried for you. Quite a lot has happened to you in a short time, and I worry you are not fine, but that no one has told you it is all right not to be fine right now.”

Elnath nodded, breathing deeply a few times as the truth of his words hit her hard. He was saying exactly what she wanted and needed to hear. What she had wished everyone else had said to her, but no one had. Not even Rigel.

“I want you to know that I am here for you to talk to, if you need someone.” He said.

“Oh,” Elnath remarked, surprised at such an earnest offer. “Thank you.”

Grogan nodded with a kind smile, “Any time.”

Elnath felt her pulse increase at his smile and realized right then how much she had missed him while in France.

“Sorry I never wrote you back.” She said.

“Oh, no, it is fine.” Grogan was surprised she apologized for it. “Truthfully I should not have written you to begin with.”

“Why ever not?” Elnath frowned.

“Being your professor,” he said, shaking his head. “It was somewhat inappropriate.”

“More inappropriate than going to your own student’s New Year’s Eve party?” Elnath pressed in a cool tone.

“I did not know whose party it was!” Grogan protested. “Thea invited my sister, and Prunella invited me because her husband was unable to attend.”

“Who is Thea?” Elnath asked. Though in her head she was more concerned that Grogan’s sister had seen her behaving so inappropriately.

“Althea Abbott. She is my…” Grogan trailed off and Elnath’s thoughts came into sharp focus. Grogan was attached. Not that she was available herself, but still, she did not anticipate this news nor did she like it.

“I see.” Elnath nodded.

“No, she is just a friend.” Grogan said quickly. “We were attached a few years ago, but now we are only friends. I am not attached to anyone.”

Grogan felt like an idiot for tacking on the last sentence, especially knowing Elnath was in fact attached to that French boy.

“Oh, well, I am attached to someone.” Elnath said simply.

“Yes, I saw.” Grogan said in a tone void of any judgment on the matter.

“Yes, well,” Elnath breathed out before continuing in a matter-of-fact tone, “I should probably get to Potions before Professor Hipworth gives me detention my first day back.”

“Oh, let me write you a line.” Grogan said.

Elnath gave him a quill and parchment then silently admired his physique while he wrote her a quick excuse for her now inevitable tardiness. His eyes met hers as he looked up to hand her back her things.

“Remember what I said.” He said softly. “The offer always stands.”

Elnath stayed in his gaze for a long moment, truly not wanting to leave him. From the direction of his cottage came a high-pitched scream of protest followed by a raucous bout of laughter and Grogan let out a groan.

“Damn third years.” He muttered. “I need to go.”

Elnath nodded with a knowing smile, and he ran off to break up whatever had just happened, startling a few of the granians in his path. She spun on her heel to hurry to the dungeons, her step a little lighter as she recounted the interaction. This only lasted fifty paces, though, as she found herself looking forward to free period when she could tell Willa what had happened only to immediately realize that would not be possible ever again.

* * *

Septimus was not pleased with how his conversation with the headmaster had gone. Virgil had kept Marcellus in the room with them well beyond what was necessary, and then when he was finally able to ask him for any ideas on Willa’s release, Virgil essentially asked Septimus for money. It was not direct, of course, an odd remark here and there about things he needed but could not afford just yet. A pensieve being the main example he espoused.

Septimus had left incensed. He thought Virgil would be an ally given that Willa was Hogwarts’ Champion and the Triwizard Tournament was still on. Instead, the man confirmed exactly how lousy his character remained.

He slid onto a barstool at the relatively empty Three Broomsticks, no desire to return to London yet. With his children back at Hogwarts and Vincent returned to Paris to search for any alternative solutions to free Willa, the Grosvenor Square home would be entirely empty shy for Hobney. He would much rather sit here and drink instead of anywhere in that townhome, still so full of Willa’s energy. A constant reminder of his failure and her imprisonment.

“What’ll you have?” the barkeeper said.

Septimus recognized him from his time at Hogwarts, but could not place his name nor his house or anything of use in identifying him properly.

“Ogden’s. A double.”

“I know you. Septimus Malfoy, is it?” the barkeeper said.

Septimus gave a tight smile, more of a grimace really.

“Tough week for you, I read.” The barkeeper said. “Shame about that lass. Braxton will be upset, I reckon, once he wakes up. They came in here together first Hogsmeade weekend, back during the trials. Handsome couple, if you ask me. Fresh out of Ogden’s, let me get some from the back.”

The barkeeper walked off to find the Ogden’s.

_Braxton and Willa a couple?_ It was a prospect Septimus had never given thought before, but now that someone said it out loud, it made sense. Despite that it did not make any sense given that she was in love with him and had been for some time. Still, Quintus had been writing to him about Willa’s friendship with Braxton quite frequently in the fall. At the time, he had thought it was just idle gossip, given his seemingly political interest in her and his loyalties to the Bagshot family during Miranda’s trial and aftermath.

Now that he knew Quintus knew everything from the beginning, he wondered if perhaps his writing was intended to be a warning about Willa’s interests in his nephew. Septimus shook his head, recalling what Quintus had said to them both: _your love for each other is very pure_. If Willa had been with Braxton, he would not have called her love for him pure.

The barkeeper returned, two bottles of Odgen’s in hand, and Septimus decided to press him for more details on the topic. At this point, anything he could learn might help him get Willa out of Azkaban. He was clear out of ideas and tired of thinking.

“Were they a couple?” Septimus asked as the barkeeper poured him a heavy double of the firewhisky.

“He said she was attached to some bloke in Paris, but, you know how those things go.” The barkeeper shrugged. “Byron kept telling me he wrote about her in every letter home.”

_Byron?_ Septimus thought, and then it clicked. “Ah, now I know who you are! Mata Caraid, the Gryffindor Keeper, back when Byron Bagshot was the Captain.”

“Aye, keeper on the pitch, keeper at the bar.” Mata smiled. “I know you too, though.”

“Yes, you already said.” Septimus sipped some of the Ogden’s.

“No, Byron and I are still best friends. I mean that I know who you are to him.” Mata clarified, leaning closer as he did to add, “To Miranda.”

Septimus nodded, saying nothing. He supposed he could not blame Byron for sharing this with someone, his best friend.

“Does Braxton know?” he asked Mata.

“Of course not. I swore silence on it. Don’t go worrying.” Mata replied with a serious nod.

Septimus let out a relieved breath and Mata pulled up another glass from under the bar.

“Mind if I join you on one?” he asked.

“No, not at all.” Septimus said.

Mata poured himself a finger of Ogden’s and clinked his glass with Septimus’ saying, “To Braxton’s healthy return.”

Septimus nodded wholeheartedly at this and drank.

“It made me laugh though,” Mata said, laughing lightly now. “When she came in here, flirting with me for a beer, and I knew immediately she was Dipsas’ kid. You remember Dipsas Gaunt?”

Septimus laughed despite himself and said, “Yeah, easily.”

“Course you do. Same house and all.” Mata drank more and with sheer amusement in his eyes said, “When Braxton walked up with her, I thought, course he goes for this one. Just like Byron with Dipsas. Not that he stood a chance against the Gamp fortune, but…”

“Were they attached ever?” Septimus asked.

“Dipsas and Byron?”

Septimus nodded.

“Privately, I suppose. Unofficially.” Mata said with a twinge of nostalgia. “Probably all for the best. Byron’s getting the money anyway.”

“How so?”

“I thought you would know since you are giving him a stipend, too?” Mata said.

“Dipsas is paying Byron a monthly stipend?” Septimus asked quietly, shocked.

“Aye, since Miranda was imprisoned.” Mata said quietly.

“You cannot tell anyone that. If Ardan found out…” Septimus trailed off, not wanting to think about it. “It would not end well.”

“I’m not a fool, Septimus.” Mata said. “And I keep a lot of secrets. But you’re their family, and he acted like you knew. I trust you.”

“I apologize. I suppose I am on edge because someone tried to assassinate me and my children nine days ago.” Septimus said and drank more.

Mata sighed, “Sorry, I did not mean to be insensitive.”

Septimus shook it off, “I just want to get Willa out of Azkaban. Truly that is all I want.”

“Willa? Is that her name, Dipsas’ kid? Braxton just called her Miss Gamp.”

“Yeah, Willa.” Septimus said.

There was a long silence while Septimus debated to tell him the truth. He wanted everyone to know. He wanted them to all feel like horrible people for sending the love of his life to prison. He wanted everyone to suffer, knowing they had caused so much pain for petulant and insignificant reasons. _What would Willa want?_ He asked himself. But he knew what she wanted. They were engaged after all.

He looked up at Mata and said, “I am the bloke from Paris.”

“What?” Mata furrowed his brow, confused.

Septimus drank the rest of his double in one go, stood up, and put a Galleon on the bar.

“You heard what I said.” He said.

“You need change.” Mata said, starting for his coin box. A double of Ogden’s did not even cost a Sickle.

Septimus pulled on his coat and said, “Keep it.”

“For my silence?” he asked quietly.

“For your kindness.” Septimus shrugged. “Have a good day.”

* * *

Two days had passed since Septimus returned his children to Hogwarts, and while he did not feel much improved in disposition, he had taken it upon himself to continue presenting his relationship with Willa truthfully to the world. He brought the small portraiture she had gifted him to his office at the Ministry, framing it more permanently and placing it on his desk next to the portraits of his children.

He was gazing at her portrait’s eyes when his secretary came in to announce that Artemisia Lufkin had arrived. Septimus nodded and his secretary showed her in, then closed the door.

“First day back?” Artemisia said after glancing behind herself nervously at the closed door. She took in the office briefly, she had only been there twice before and did not remember it well. It was lighter than she recalled, lacking leather except for his desk chair. The walls were cream colored with pale blue accents.

“Yes, it is.” Septimus said. “Thank you for seeing me. Please, sit.”

Artemisia slid into the chair in front of his desk and said, “How can I help?”

Septimus looked at her with scrutiny and Artemisia felt like he saw through her entirely, not that there was much to reveal. He already knew what she had done under the Imperius Curse.

“Can I trust you?” he asked finally.

“Are we aligned?” she asked him.

“Did you wish for Willa to be sent to Azkaban, regardless of how you voted on it?” he asked.

“No.” Artemisia said with assurance. “It eats at me every hour.”

Septimus nodded and then said, “Do you still want to become the next Minister of Magic?”

“What are you asking me?”

“If you still wish to become the next Minister of Magic.” Septimus said simply.

“Yes,” she said with hesitation.

“Yes, or _yes_?” he asked, the second instance being said with absolute confidence.

“ _Yes_.” Artemisia said, this time with full confidence.

“When does your husband expect you to be home today?” Septimus asked.

Artemisia’s eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

“I want you to meet someone, a good friend of mine, but I am unsure how long it will take. He can be… unpredictable.” Septimus said.

“I can get home whenever I need to, Septimus. My husband does not control me.” Artemisia said, clearly intrigued by his vague offer.

“Do you own any Muggle clothing?” Septimus asked.

“No,” she frowned. “Why?”

“Not to worry,” Septimus smiled, standing. “Come on.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. He is expecting me and he is not the easiest person to pin down.” Septimus said brusquely and then opened the office door for Artemisia to exit first.

They went the Floo Network and she stood next to him in a fireplace, balking a bit when he said his townhome’s name into the green flames. They landed in a formal sitting room and he called out, “Hobney” without any hesitation.

“Yes, master?” the house elf said after apparating into the room.

“Mrs. Lufkin needs a Muggle dress. Day time, but formal.” He said. “And then I need you to call the carriage around and prepare it to be Muggle-worthy.”

“Yes, master. Where should Hobney tell the horses you are going, sir?” he asked.

“Carlton House,” Septimus said.

Hobney looked to Artemisia and said, “Mrs. Lufkin, this way, please.”

Septimus followed them down the hallway, heading to his dressing room as Hobney led Artemisia to the guest suite. He changed into a Muggle suit and went downstairs to wait for her to finish changing.

She appeared moments later in proper attire and Septimus gave an approving nod.

“Mrs. Lufkin, have you ever interacted with Muggle royalty before?”

“No,” she frowned.

“Let me teach you how to bow then.”

After a few minutes practice while the carriage was prepared, they were off to Carlton House.

The royal guards were less imposing at this estate than Buckingham Palace and they knew Septimus by now as a friend of Prince George. In little time he and Artemisia were being shown into the drawing room of Carlton House. Upon entry, Artemisia took in the only person in the room, a young, handsome man who brightened as the servant introduced Septimus as Lord Percival Blakeney.

“Lord Blakeney!” the handsome man called, standing from his couch and throwing open his arms.

“Prince George!” Septimus returned with as broad of a smile, walking into the royal’s embrace.

“Such a pleasure to see you again so soon. Pray, is this your new wife I have heard so much about, the Lady Marguerite?”

“No, your grace, this is someone from my organization, Lady Artemisia. Between us, I believe she is set to be our next leader and I thought you two ought to be acquainted.” Septimus smiled.

“Next leader?” George raised his eyebrows. “Your organization is so modern, Percy, I scarcely can believe it.”

“I scarcely can believe you think £31,000 is not excessive to spend on your stables.” Septimus jested. “Female leadership is hardly modern anyway. It is not as though we have not seen our share of Queens, after all.”

Prince George laughed and then greeted Artemisia appropriately. She bowed the way Septimus had taught her, and the prince had them sit.

“I do hope you are as daring as our friend here, Lady Artemisia.” Prince George said.

“Oh, how so, your grace?”

“He has saved this city twice now, not to mention all his work in France.” He glanced at Septimus with a frown, “She does know about France, right?”

“Well… not quite.” Septimus smiled. “But I am bringing her in on it.”

“I recently did the calculations,” Prince George said eagerly, looking between the two, “And Percy and Vincent’s operation has saved thirty thousand lives since its inception two years ago.”

Artemisia looked at Septimus with wide eyes, “Vincent Saint-Just?”

“Yes, the Duke of Vendee’s son.” He replied.

“Thirty thousand? In France?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, where else is there a revolution?” Prince George laughed.

“But how?” she asked.

Septimus gave her a meaningful look as Prince George said, “He will never share that secret.”

“Best not to, for everyone’s safety.” Septimus conceded with an easy smile.

“Indeed, but the Duchess Yvonne Henriette will not stop bragging about your wife. She says she is an absolute gem, in both character and beauty, and she told me that she knows magic. I am dying to meet her.” George pursed his lips excitedly.

Artemisia wondered who exactly was Septimus’ wife. Lila Malfoy had been dead for well over six years and she was certain she would have heard by now if he had remarried. The unlikely idea he might have a Muggle wife dawned on her. She could not fathom how he would balance that, however, and waited to see how Septimus responded the prince’s reference to magic, wondering with some alarm if he had told the Muggle about the existence of magic. It seemed so far that he had not and Septimus’ quick retort assured her this remained the case.

“Magic? That old trick she picked up in New Orleans?” Septimus laughed. “No, she is a skilled actress, that is for certain. Unfortunately she is also quite indisposed at the moment.”

“How do you mean?” George asked in a more serious tone.

“She has been taken prisoner in France.” Septimus said, causing Artemisia more confusion.

“Absolutely not! I will tear that country apart for you.” George boomed, his chest puffed out in indignation.

“After all my efforts to avoid war? You certainly will not. She will be all right, she is the strongest person I know. No, I only need one thing from you on this matter.” Septimus said.

“Name it.”

“That I know the moment France moves against England. If I can get ahead of this information, it will serve as leverage in her release.” Septimus said.

“You will be the first to know. You have my word.” Prince George nodded.

Septimus bowed his gratitude.

“Now,” George clapped and a servant entered. “We shall take drinks to celebrate Lady Artemisia’s future promotion. I want to hear more about you.”

The afternoon continued like so, with George leading the conversation and Septimus guiding Artemisia on how to answer until she was comfortable enough to handle the line between Muggle and Magical on her own. She somehow managed to mask her shock of it all until they were back in Septimus’ carriage heading to his townhome.

“I think that went well. What do you think?” Septimus asked her.

“He seemed to like me. But why am I even meeting him?”

“The Minister of Magic is known to the Muggle Prime Minister and that is all. I believe, however, you will need allies wherever you can find them.”

“When I am Minister?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. And to become Minister in the first place.”

Artemisia was quiet a moment as they jostled along the short road back to Grosvenor Square.

“So you are Percival Blakeney? The man the French Muggle newspapers are constantly putting out a reward for catching, dead or alive? Why are you telling me all this?” she finally said. It was the only thing she really wanted to know since the identity had been revealed by the prince.

“You need to know the truth if you are ever going to trust me. And I need you to know that I am not the man you thought I was, because I need you to be able to believe that about somebody else. Somebody you trust.”

“Who?”

“Ardan Gamp is not the man you think he is. He is the one who put the Imperius Curse on you at Beauxbatons.”

“He staged an attack that put his daughter in prison?” Artemisia said doubtful.

“No, he staged an attack to kill me and my children. Willa just muddied the plan because she saved me and Octavia. Vincent saved my son and Miss Avery, as you saw.” Septimus clarified.

“Willa? So you are on a personal name basis with her?”

“Yes, we are on a very personal basis.” He said, measuring Artemisia’s reaction. She played it cool and he felt more positive about her chances at winning the election. “We are engaged.”

“Engaged? You kept saying to Prince George you were married.”

“Muggles are too conservative to claim Willa as merely my fiancé. They need some sort of religious covenant to feel comfortable with the concept of love. It is not as though I am honest with them about much else anyway, so what is another lie?” He shrugged.

“What exactly do you want from me?” she asked, eying him intently.

“I want you to do me one favor once you are Minister of Magic.”

“You are so certain I will become Minister.” She laughed.

“I am going to ensure you do.” He said. “If you promise to pardon Willa once you are in power.”

“The elections are in two years’ time.”

“I never said it was my first pick of a plan or timeline, but I have to have a strategy. Seeing as you and I have aligned interests, meaning that we believe Muggle and Magical blood are of the same value, I believe we could form a partnership. It seems my party has split into two factions, one of which I do not wish to see continued. Lazy, short-sighted men who are running out of money, have now decided that blood purity is power.”

“Cecil Flint is hardly subtle about his doctrine.”

“Indeed no.”

“So you would wait two years to get her out of prison?”

“I will wait my entire life if I must, but I will be trying every single day to get her out of prison.” He said definitively. “You and I do need to get moving on your campaign though, because two years is not very long to change nearly every man’s mind about female leadership.”

She gaped at him a moment, processing everything. Finally she asked, “Why would you not run yourself?”

“Who would vote for me? No one. Not even you.” He said. “No one could even know I was supporting you at all. Aligning with me publicly right now is absolute political suicide.”

She could not disagree.

“All right then, Septimus, you have a deal.” Artemisia said just as the carriage rolled to a stop.

Septimus pulled out his wand and stuck out his hand.

“Will you make the vow?” he asked.

“The Unbreakable Vow?” Artemisia clarified.

Septimus nodded.

She looked at him anew for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day.

“You really love her.” She said.

“Love is an inadequate word to describe my feelings for Willa.”

There was a long silence and Septimus could not read Artemisia one way or the other. He dared not risk her trust by attempting legilimency on her.

“I cannot make that vow. I need to have your trust on my word alone.” Artemisia said firmly.

Septimus’ lips tugged into a smile of surprise at her response. She already was versed enough in politics that his work in making her become Minister of Magic would not be difficult.

“I understand.” He said. He put away his wand but left his hand out, “So we have a deal?”

Artemisia shook his hand confidently and said, “Yes.”

Once Artemisia changed out of her Muggle clothing and returned to the Ministry via Floo, Septimus settled into his home office to sort through the list of people he could solicit for help in releasing Willa. He only wanted to have to go back to Virgil with a pensieve as a last resort.


	32. A Terrible Truth

A fortnight after Septimus and Artemisia made their deal, he finally had run out of alternatives and gave into Virgil Hayward’s corrupt request for a pensieve. In Azkaban, however, time did not seem to work the same way it did on the mainland. Willa had no idea how long she had been in the prison, but each instance a dementor passed her cell, she remembered a little bit more from the night of Ciaran’s and Opala’s murders. It was slow going and out of chronological sequence. The memories perplexed her as clearly much more happened than she typically could recount. She thought she had buried these terrible events so deep they were simply forgotten, but as the dementors went round and round again, the story unfolded differently to the one she knew to be true from her memories.

When the stone floor of her prison cell iced over, she took a deep breath before the dementor began its hourly duty. She felt certain this would be the final piece of the memory—their actual deaths—and she had been anticipating this particular visit with anxious enthusiasm. As everything went dark and she was transported back to the Ohio Country forest, she knew she was correct.

The beginning played out as it had for several passes with Willa chasing after Ciaran through the woods. Years before they had promised each other if they ever were free enough to run away from their father, they would. This was their chance; she could feel it. But Ciaran was only running to meet Opala. Their plans no longer mattered to him if Opala was not involved.

“Do not leave me! Come back!” Willa called to Ciaran.

Ciaran ignored her and kept moving, swiftly and silently through the forest. Finally he reached his destination, only no one was there. Willa caught up to him, puffing a cloud of hot breath into the cold night air.

“Go home. It is not safe tonight. You heard father and the Lenape warrior. Tonight is the attack on the No-Maj village.” Ciaran hissed at her.

“How is home any safer? This is our chance to sneak off. To leave for good.” Willa said reaching for her brother’s hand to remind him of their childhood promise.

“I will not leave her.” Ciaran whispered as he gave Willa’s hand a squeeze.

“Ciaran?” a whisper came from the nearby trees.

“Yes, Opala, I am here.” Ciaran said and dropped Willa’s hand.

Opala emerged into view, her sharp features and glossy black hair catching the moonlight as she lowered her cloak’s hood. She looked almost ethereal until she and Ciaran rushed into each other’s arms. Willa swallowed at the lump in her throat. He had chosen Opala over her. He was breaking their promise.

“I was so worried.” Ciaran murmured against Opala.

“I am safe.” She said.

“Bring her with us.” Willa said, the obvious solution finally dawning on her

The couple turned to her.

“My place is here with my people.” Opala said.

“Father will never allow this. She is No-Maj. You will not be able to hide forever.” Willa said to Ciaran, hoping reason would work.

“Once I am eighteen, I will inherit my trust and be free of him. I do not need forever, I only need two years.” Ciaran said. Clearly he meant to abandon MACUSA as well, as President Rapport’s new law prohibited such a union.

Willa decided to employ a different tactic and went to the couple, taking Ciaran’s hand again as she looked into his eyes.

“Please,” she begged him. “Please leave with me tonight. I cannot do this without you.”

“No one is leaving, Willa. You can come live with me when I am eighteen. You will be seventeen then and father will not be able to stop you.” Ciaran assured her.

Willa shook her head. They may never get this opportunity to flee again.

“I love you, sister. That is why I want you to go home and stay safe from the violence tonight. I will return soon.” He smiled at her.

A noise informed them they were not alone.

“Hide!” Opala whispered.

As fear overtook her, Willa apparated onto a thick branch of the closest tree. She pressed flat against it for balance and to better camouflage herself. Looking down, she saw Ciaran and Opala were hidden as well. In the place they had all just been now stood her father.

This was where the memory stopped every time before jumping to Willa apparating into their house and crying out, “Mother! We must go! Father has gone mad.”

This dementor visit, however, it finally continued.

“I know you are here. Show yourself.” Ardan said. He waited awhile before casting a Revealing charm. The space where Opala and Ciaran hid began to flutter with an unnatural breeze until Ciaran hurried into the pathway leaving Opala in hiding.

“It is only me, father. I heard the gunfire and I wanted to help.” He said.

“You really are the most terrible liar, son.” Ardan sneered. “But I heard another voice. I know you are not alone.”

“You are mistaken. I am alone.” Ciaran’s voice steeled.

Their father stared into him, implementing legilimency. When he frowned, Willa smiled to herself. Clearly Ciaran could block him now; all their occlumency practice at Ilvermorny had paid off.

“You leave me no choice but to draw her out then.” Their father said. He pulled out his wand and cast, “ _Crucio_.”

Ciaran’s knees buckled from the perceived pain. He began to wail, and Willa was about to drop from the tree as a decoy to protect Opala when she ran out.

“Stop! Stop hurting him!” Opala cried.

Ardan’s lips curved into a wicked smile.

“Well, that was not so difficult, now was it?” he said, not removing the Torture curse as he said to Opala, “Tell me, girl, who are your parents?”

She replied truthfully and Ardan nodded thoughtfully.

“Please stop hurting him, sir.” She said.

“I will once you confirm with certainty your father is not the clan’s healer.” Ardan said.

Willa’s heart pounded in her chest. The clan’s healer was a wizard. All Opala had to do was say she lacked certainty of her true father’s identity and she would be spared. The Lenape were matrilocal, so it was possible, though culturally unlikely as clans did not marry within their own clan. Ciaran began to rise back to his feet, fighting through the Cruciatus Curse with occlumency. It was not easy to do. He and Willa practiced often and she had only managed to do it a handful of times. Ciaran still never had.

“Well?” Ardan demanded of Opala.

Her focus, which had been pulled to Ciaran as he fought his way towards her, snapped back to Ardan now.

“No, my father is not the healer.”

Willa deflated.

“What a shame my son has chosen to love you then.” Ardan said.

He dropped the Cruciatus Curse and turned his wand on Opala.

“Father, no!” Ciaran yelled, throwing himself in front of Opala the moment Ardan cast the Killing Curse.

The green light hit Ciaran square in the chest. Willa bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming as her brother fell dead to the ground.

“Stupid boy!” Ardan growled out.

Opala began to run.

“ _Avada Kedavra!”_ Ardan cast unceremoniously after her. She fell forward and Ardan exhaled loudly. He looked down at Ciaran and his expression darkened.

“This is going to delay our return to Ireland even further.” He muttered at his son’s body, as if the boy could still hear him.

Releasing an angry yell that was almost animalistic in nature, he stamped his boot hard on Ciaran’s face then rolled his body over.

Willa clawed so hard into the tree branch she began to bleed.

Ardan pulled a pistol from his Muggle coat and cocked it. He took several steps away from Ciaran’s body and aimed the gun at his head. He let out a breath to steady his grip and pulled the trigger. His aim was true and Willa could not stop her scream as Ciaran’s skull exploded out before her eyes.

Ardan looked up at the noise. His black eyes found her immediately and they stared at each other for a long second before Willa disapparated. She apparted into their house calling out, “Mother! Mother we must go! Father has gone mad. He killed Ciaran!”

Willa gasped for air. The cold, damp sea air filling her as she returned to the prison cell. The dementor moved on and she took a dozen deep breaths as she processed what she had seen. The rest of the memory finally made sense and she let it play out in her mind from where this final piece left off…

Willa frantically searched the house for her mother. She found her in the master bedroom, sitting placidly in a chair by the window.

“Mother!” Willa yelled. It was only once she stood directly in front of her that her mother looked up. “Mother, we must go!”

“No, your father said to stay here in the house where it is safe.” Her mother replied.

“He killed Ciaran. I saw it. We must go before he returns.” Willa urged, grabbing her mother’s hands.

“What are you saying, Mina? Where is your brother? He was just here.”

“He is dead. Father killed him.” Willa said. “Where is your wand, mama?”

“My wand?” Dipsas frowned. Her eyes became focused suddenly. She looked at Willa with fear, “Your father took it. Where is he?”

“On his way. We need to go now.”

“How?”

“I can do it without a wand.” Willa assured her.

“I cannot leave the house, Mina. Do you understand?”

Willa felt a tear slide down her cheek as she nodded. “Oh, mama.”

“Go.” Her mother whispered.

Willa stepped back to disapparate, focusing on their old Baltimore home as her destination. She intended to go straight to MACUSA and testify to her father’s murder of Ciaran and the No-Maj, Opala. A feeling overcame her, and she realized it was smarter to stay here. Her father’s reputation and career would be over if she brought this accusation against him. Where would that leave her? She needed the Gamp name intact to thrive.

“Run, Mina.” Her mother urged.

“I cannot.” Willa whispered.

Their eyes locked in a terrible sadness.

“There you are.” Ardan’s voice rang out causing both women to shudder. “I was so worried when I found the others dead.”

“You mean when you killed them!” Willa spat.

Ardan frowned and looked at Dipsas, “What is she saying?”

“She says you killed our son.” Dipsas said plainly.

“That is untrue.” Ardan said, eyes wide with shock.

“I saw you.” Willa said defiantly.

“You wicked girl, saying such horrible lies about your own family. I see you need to be punished.”

Ardan boxed Willa into a corner of the bedroom when she tried to run.

“ _Crucio_ ,” he cast without much emotion.

Willa ground her teeth, pushing all her energy into occlumency to block the curse. As Ardan put more hateful energy behind his curse, Willa could feel the fringes of the pain moving in. She steeled herself further and Ardan smiled at her. It was an honest smile, one of genuine pride.

“You have become so strong.” He said.

“I am going to make you pay for what you have done.” Willa bit out.

“Is that so, dear child?”

“You cannot hurt me anymore.” Willa said.

Ardan darkened and lifted the curse. Before Willa had a chance to recover, he cast, “ _Imperio_.”

Willa’s mind went blank and calm. She felt warm, comforted. Her father told her not to move and she obeyed. It felt good to obey, as if her actions were quite noble.

“You think you know what pain is, my darling daughter.” Ardan began as he approached her. “But you have no idea.”

“Ardan, stop.” Dipsas managed through a sob from her chair.

“Be quiet and stay where you are.” Ardan said to her.

Dipsas worked to muffle the noise of her sobs.

“Let me teach you a lesson about pain.” Ardan said softly to Willa, pushing back the hair from her temple as he aimed his wand there. “ _Obliviate._ ”

The next thing that Willa knew, she was on the couch in their drawing room, crying uncontrollably.

“It will be alright. We will get through this.” her father was saying as he comforted her mother.

Her parents both looked at her like she was an unstable force, ready to explode at any moment. In a painful surge of memories, Willa understood why. She had killed Ciaran and Opala. Her father had caught her. He had been proud of her, of how strong she had become. He said her mother would not understand. This must be what he meant. But Ciaran was dead. She had killed him. How could she have done that? She choked out a loud sob. She did not know how to live with herself any longer.

Willa let out a manic scream in her cell. All this time he had made her believe she was a killer, just to punish her for challenging his power.

Now he had killed a man though. In the end her father had always been right about her. She was evil. Just like him.

“You cannot be like him. You can only ever be yourself.” Septimus’ voice rang out in her head.

“My self is evil.” She replied aloud.

“How can you say that when you have saved so many lives? When your words enacted change for the better in France?” his voice reasoned.

The floor iced over again. Another hour gone.

“Stay strong.” Septimus’ voice said.

Willa relived her brother’s true murder once more. It felt entirely real this time. When she returned back to her cell, she felt only a burning anger towards her father. A few minutes after the dementor passed, she heard a popping noise, like that of apparation.

She decided her mind must be playing tricks on her. It seemed entirely impossible that anyone could apparate inside Azkaban. The prisoners would all disapparate out. She recounted that Septimus said magic was not blocked since no one was allowed a wand. Why had she not tried this before? She focused her energy and thought of Septimus’ townhome. There was a tug on her navel and she was gone. A second later she landed on the other side of her cell.

“It is enchanted to prevent you from leaving or destroying the cell.” A voice said quite close to her.

Willa shrieked. It was her father’s voice.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he cast and the tip of his wand lit, illuminating their faces in the cell’s dimness.

“Get away from me.” Willa hissed, stumbling towards the cell door as she began to scream, “Help!”

Ardan muted her with a Silencing spell.

“Willa, save your energy. No one is going to come. The aurors here are all under my Imperius Curse.”

She glared at him.

“Promise not to scream again?”

Willa nodded and he removed the Silencing spell.

“Why are you here?” she demanded. “To kill me?”

“Why would I want to kill you?” he frowned. “No, I am here to say goodbye to someone.”

“Who?”

“Miranda Bagshot. She is scheduled to be executed tomorrow morning and Septimus Malfoy will not be able to stop it this time.” He said simply.

Willa tried to piece all this together, but her mind was too exhausted.

“You killed Ciaran and Opala.” She said.

“I see you remember now. I knew you must not have when I saw you in France. You would have tried to kill me instead of throwing your lover in my face.” He laughed.

“I am going to kill you.” Willa whispered.

“You are too weak right now.” He smiled. “Besides, you are being released tomorrow so there is no need to risk that over a revenge fantasy today. There will be plenty of time for us to discuss everything once you are free.”

“How do you know I am being released?”

“Because I told Virgil Hayward it was time to play his card. He is an easily bought man. I do hope Septimus did not waste too much money on him.” Ardan chuckled.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. I want to say goodbye to Miranda. You say you are in love, I thought you would understand.” He shrugged.

“You are in love with Braxton’s mother?”

“Obviously. Why else would I come back to this dreadful place? That Braxton though, now he is a good match for you. If your sister was still alive people might frown at it, but she is not and no one knows about that except the man who banished me for it.”

“My sister?” Willa stammered ignoring the rest of it.

“Bethany.” He said easily. When Willa’s brow remained drawn up he added, “Oh dear, I thought Septimus would have told you. Perhaps he and Miranda made an Unbreakable Vow.”

Willa stood in muted shock.

“I do need to be going, Willa. I came here to give you something.” He said, reaching into his robe.

He produced her snakewood wand and held it out to her. Willa took her old wand from him, its power warmed her hand as it reunited with its owner.

“I am willing to give you another chance. In fact, you have positioned yourself quite effectively gaining Septimus’ trust as you have.” He said. “I unregistered the wand with MACUSA. It cannot be traced. I will see you soon, my daughter. Know that I have always loved you.”

He opened the cell door to leave.

“Wait!” Willa cried. Ardan turned. “How are you here?”

“I used to work here as an auror. I know all the dirty secrets of Azkaban, including how lazy everyone is. They never removed my access permissions, it seems.”

“No, here on British soil.” Willa said.

Ardan’s mouth crept into a playful grin and he said, “Oh, that. Well is this truly British soil? It is not very close to Britain anyway.”

With that he swept from the room, closing the cell door behind him. Willa stared at the door trying to make sense of everything and wondering if she had only imagined it all. If she actually had gone fully mad in this place. The floor grew cold again and Willa turned in time to see the dementor before it began to suck out her soul. The distant clatter of her wand hitting the stone floor the last thing she heard before returning to Ohio Country yet again.

* * *

Septimus jerked from the volume he pored over when his secretary entered his office.

“A letter from Hogwarts, sir.” He said, holding out the sealed parchment.

Septimus tore it open, reading rapidly before looking at his secretary again.

“Is the Minister still here?” he asked.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Send him an owl to let him know I am coming to see him.” Septimus said. “Then go home. It is already late.”

His secretary nodded and bowed as Septimus hurried past him towards the stairwells. The owl arrived only minutes before him and Unctuous did not appear ready to see him quite yet as he rushed into the room.

“Y-you needed to see me?” the Minister stammered. His eyes flashed nervously to where Septimus kept his wand. After Miss Gamp ended up in Azkaban, an outcome Cecil had assured him would not occur, Unctuous had been waiting for Septimus to exact his vengeance. The quietude of the man admittedly was more frightening than if he had been taking action. The past couple weeks the Minister had felt rather like a hapless gazelle, wandering through an African plain wondering if a lion was hidden in the grass, slowly stalking him.

“A letter, from Virgil Hayward.” Septimus shoved it at Unctuous with a severe expression, glad to see Unctuous feared him again. It would make gaining his approval on this matter quite simple.

The Minister read Virgil’s letter, scrutinizing the signature for forgery before looking up at once.

“Miss Gamp is contractually bound to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. Then she shall be released on probation until the tournament ends.” He said and raised an eyebrow at Septimus, “She will have to wear the cuffs though.”

Septimus nodded. Magic-tracking cuffs were the least of his concern.

“She has nothing to hide.” He said tightly then levitated a quill towards the Minister. “Time to start writing the release order.”

“You are certain this is the best course of action? Will you be satisfied with only a temporary release? She will be confined to Hogwarts. You will barely see her.” Unctuous ventured.

“You made your sentiments on my satisfaction perfectly clear in December, Minister.” Septimus said coldly. “Now write the release order. I intend to witness you dispatch it tonight.”

* * *

A loud clang came from the cell door and Willa cowered against the outer wall, knees pulled to her chest, attempting to hide in the darkness. She squinted to try and make out the figure who entered. The silhouette appeared much too short to be her father. Whoever it was quickly dropped to the floor and a scurrying noise followed as they crawled around the cell floor.

“Is it you?” a female voice asked, shockingly close to her. It was thick, as if out of use.

Willa said nothing, but a flash of lightning from the never-ending storm allowed both women to see each other clearly. They sat barely two feet apart. A gasp came from both mouths followed by their simultaneous remarks: “You are Miranda Bagshot.” and “You are Ardan’s other daughter.”

Willa’s heartbeat raced as these words confirmed her father had not been lying. Bethany had been her half-sister. It all added up: Braxton seeing his dead sister every time he looked at Willa; Ardan’s behavior upon seeing Braxton at the Yule Ball; Septimus hiding Bethany’s true father from her in his memory; Bethany looking remarkably similar to Ciaran as a child in Septimus’ memory.

“Wilhelmina is your name. But my brother calls you Willa. At least that is what Lila tells me.” Miranda said. She seemed lucid, even if her voice was odd. Willa attempted to process what she said.

Miranda’s blonde curls precisely matched Braxton’s and her pale blue eyes reminded her of Septimus. Clearly a genetic trait from their shared father. She felt a warmth growing within her as she looked into these eyes and began to inch closer to Miranda.

“What is your brother’s name?”

“Which one?” Miranda asked in earnest.

“The one who calls me Willa.”

“Oh, but Lila’s husband of course. She hates you very much, you know. She told me to come here and kill you.” Miranda said.

Willa scooted away into a defensive position. She doubted Miranda could overtake her in her weakened state, but she also could not kill Braxton’s mother. She hoped it would not come to that. Finally, after her survival adrenaline evened out, she realized Miranda just told her Septimus was her brother. Of course Willa already knew this, but how did Miranda?

“Septimus obliviated you. How do you remember him?” she asked.

“You know how by now. There is no way Ardan never obliviated you. No way you are alive if he had not. You remember everything in here. When they come for a feeding and you feel all the pain. It all returns, it does.” Miranda was muttering now, her words becoming less cohesive. Abruptly she said, “I love him, you know.”

“Who?”

“Ardan. No, Braxton. No, I do. I love him. He will never forgive me. He never will. Lila told me to kill you.”

Willa said nothing, feeling quite certain by this point Miranda’s mind was fully gone after spending nearly a year in this place.

“Ardan came to see me today. It is my last day. I will not kill you, Willa Gamp. I need you to tell my son that I love him and I am sorry.” Miranda gripped onto Willa’s flesh. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” Willa said. Miranda’s grip was hard, and Willa thought it probably hurt, but pain was difficult to decipher by now and all she could feel was the warmth of her touch. She let out a breath and said, “If I live through this, I will tell Braxton you love him and are sorry.”

“He will never forgive me.” She said again to no one.

“He may surprise you.” Willa said. “He loves you very much. I see it in him all the time.”

“I hope this is true.” Miranda whispered. She pushed her body closer to Willa, who embraced her, grateful for the continued human touch in this isolated hell. Miranda nuzzled closer to Willa and closed her pale blue eyes.

“Ardan really loves you. Lila will be disappointed. When he saw me earlier, he said something about starting over after Septimus is destroyed. ‘Just Willa and me, an unstoppable force’ he said. And possibly with Braxton. He thought you could marry Braxton and I said that would be nice. And it would be nice. He promised not to remarry. That you were enough to carry his legacy.” Miranda murmured out and sighed wistfully.

Willa went cold as her concern for her mother’s safety inflated.

“He promised not to remarry? What happened to Dipsas?” she asked.

“That whore?! She can have my husband for all I care. It is all she has ever wanted. I always felt it unfortunate she should marry Ardan before I had the chance. She preferred Byron from the beginning, but he had no money and insufficient connections. He needed someone like me, and she needed someone like Ardan. This world is cruel, Wilhelmina.”

Willa breathed relief. At least her mother was unharmed for the moment. If her father had not lied about Bethany, then he likely had not lied about her release tomorrow either. Soon she would be able to protect her mother from whatever Ardan’s plan was. Willa paused, suddenly realizing her mother might be part of his plan. She did not want to think about this. Instead she focused on the new information Miranda just told her about her mother and Mr. Bagshot.

“Are you certain I am Ardan’s daughter?” Willa ventured to ask. Perhaps her mother also had an affair? Perhaps Byron was her actual father? The idea of not being related to Ardan was alluring, especially if she would still be able to inherit all his money.

“Oh yes. Ardan would never claim property that was not his own.” Miranda said with a yawn, putting end to Willa’s new thoughts. “I think I might sleep now. Ardan’s visit tired me.”

Willa nearly asked why but thought better of it as the probable reason dawned on her.

“Can you sleep here?” Willa asked instead, doubtful.

“Not at all, but it is my last day, so it does not matter.” She looked Willa in the eyes, moving close to her face. “You promise to tell my son I love him?”

“I promise.” Willa said.

Miranda kissed her on the cheek before nuzzling into her chest. She murmured something about Braxton and fell asleep in Willa’s arms.

* * *

The release order had been sent and Unctuous had left for the night. Septimus now paced his office, debating to go home or wait overnight. Azkaban did not always follow rational thought and might read a release order directly from the Minister to mean immediate. Septimus reasoned he should be here to meet Willa if they brought her in the middle of the night.

Settled, he determined to pen a letter to Dipsas alerting her to Willa’s upcoming release. He could send it at sunrise if Willa did not arrive before then.

There was a sound outside his office. Septimus frowned. Perhaps his secretary forgot something and had returned. When his office door opened, he turned with a smile to greet his secretary. It was a smile that quickly disappeared.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

Septimus’ arms, which had been mid-motion to grab his wand, pinned to his sides and his legs locked together. He fell backwards, grateful for the carpet he installed last year in his office as his head smacked hard onto the floor. Ardan closed the office door and sauntered towards him.

“You must be wondering how I am here.” He said, looking down at the blank stare on his banisher’s petrified face. Ardan grinned as if recounting a pleasurable secret and said, “My daughter asked me the same thing when I saw her earlier.”

Septimus panicked, his thoughts wild with concern and his body incapable of movement.

“Please do not worry yourself, Septimus. She was not the reason I went to Azkaban.” Ardan said and let out a wistful sigh. He began to circle Septimus’ body at a slow pace. “No, I went to go fuck your sister one last time before they execute her. She was always so giving. I suppose that is why Lila liked her so much.”

If Septimus were capable of crying, he might have begun to out of frustration.

“It really is her time to die though. No more extensions. We have to let her go.” Ardan reasoned. “She did kill my daughter after all. Hardly forgivable.”

Then Ardan laughed. It was a genuine laugh and only made Septimus warier.

“It was Delphine. She wrote me as soon as Willa was made Champion to suggest I leave for France. We met through two-way mirror often and found we have quite a few things in common. Including a mutual hatred for you.” Ardan explained as he wandered around the office, pausing at the desk to look at the portraits of their children with distaste. “Octavia certainly has aged well. Good thing I did not turn out to be a pedophile like you have. For I am certain I would be much more effective than Purcell Droit at coercing her to do whatever I wanted.”

He inhaled deeply to expunge the mere concept of this, as it was entirely repulsive, then looked at the open book on the desk. A book of law regarding treason.

“It was Minister Osbert’s orders to open the borders for Beauxbatons that made it possible for me to reenter England. Delphine ensured I rode with her for an additional diplomatic protection. A pleasant ride back, truly. Her niece is intriguing. One to watch certainly. Not to mention I thought you were dead at the time. You can imagine the disappointment when I learned my own child foiled that plan.” Ardan groaned.

He was beside Septimus again. He knelt down, so it felt more intimate when he said, “No matter though. Willa always does what is best for the Gamp name. I made sure of that. She may promise she loves you, but make no mistake, Willa belongs to me.”

For that moment only, Septimus was glad to be petrified. Otherwise, Ardan would have seen him laugh in his face at how wrong he was. Clearly he did not know about the border spell. He did not know that Willa was weaned off his Imperius Curse.

Ardan leaned quite close to Septimus and whispered, “But none of that is what I came here to tell you. No, I came because I wanted you to know with certainty when you see her again that I am the one who released her.”

Ardan smiled smugly, as if he had won the war between them. Septimus felt Ardan’s hand move across his chest and stop on the bulge in the fabric that formed from his locket. Ardan patted the locket a few times and then inhaled violently, lifted his arm, and punched him squarely in the nose.

Septimus nearly blacked out from the pain.

Ardan stood, smoothing his robes and healing his hand which had broken from the impact.

“Until the next time.” He said, looking down with a gloating smirk before he stamped Septimus’ face with his boot until the shape of it was too bloodied to make out.

He cleaned his boot with magic and left.

* * *

Sometime after Mrs. Bagshot fell asleep in Willa’s arms, the dementors came. This time it was more than the one, and she clung to Miranda in fear and desperation as several began to swoop in and out of the cell.

“Stop! Stop!” Willa cried out. She quickly realized the dementors were not targeting her, only Miranda. It was different than usual. More forceful. As if they were taking her soul from her body. Suddenly Willa realized that was exactly what they were doing.

 _Expecto Patronum_. She heard Septimus’ voice say.

“Expecto Patronum” she said out loud. The dementors continued to attack Miranda, occasionally grabbing onto her own soul as they did given her proximity. She moved away from her and forced herself into meditation to shake off the despair.

_Let it fill you up._

Willa closed her eyes to imagine Septimus. The warmth of his joy at the idea of them being together peacefully, forever. She let it fill her up then held out her hand and cast, “ _Expecto Patronum_!” with as much force as she could muster. The energy coursed through her, hot and wild, and she attempted to channel it through her hand. A mere wisp of white light emerged. She focused and more came through, her hand heating up. The light widened forming a kind of shield around her and she moved closer to Mrs. Bagshot to shield her as well. This immediately proved a mistake.

Dementors crashed against her patronus shield in frenzied fury. With each chip at the patronus light emerged a burst of a horrible memory: Ciaran’s stony stare when the Killing Curse hit him; Braxton’s body dying in front of her and Quintus in the carriage ride back to England; Her mother’s muted screams as she was forced to use the Cruciatus Curse on her; every time she was forced to torture Ciaran.

Then more memories emerged—forgotten memories. Her father killing Muggles and No-Majs in front of her. He used non-magical methods, explaining how they were untraceable. The shock these overcame her, and she lost her ability to focus.

The patronus shield fell.

Miranda began to scream in anguish as the dementors attacked her now in full force. Each one exacting its toll, taking away another sliver of her soul as Willa rolled away from her. The raw pain of her new memories overtook her, tears slid from her freely, their saline mixing with the sea salted floor. Death surrounded her, inside and out, and she blinked furiously at the all-consuming darkness. It would be easiest to let go. To move closer to Miranda. Willa knew it was better just to die here than to continue on with this emptiness exploding from within her.

She mustered enough energy to move again, but as she dragged herself towards the dying woman and her executioners, something probed into her side.

 _Stay strong._ A voice whispered.

She felt at her side, her hand colliding with something solid and thin. Her snakewood wand. She pushed away from Miranda again. Away from the dementor swarm.

 _Let it fill you up._ The voice whispered again.

 _Septimus._ Willa realized. He remained somewhere inside her, beneath the emptiness and the pain. She remembered he was waiting for her outside of this place. Her fingers gripped the wand tighter.

“You can do this, Willa.” She said into the frozen air.

She pushed upright and steadied herself.

“Let him fill you up.” She told herself, closing her eyes.

She lifted the wand, pointing it directly towards the dementors a mere yard from her face. The magic flowed through her, warming her entire body. It filled her completely, Septimus’ incandescent smile in the forefront of her mind.

She channeled it into the wand. The Horned Serpent core bonded with her as if they had never been apart. It was natural and right. She opened her eyes and stared into the dementors.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”


	33. Gamps and Bagshots

When Willa came to, Miranda’s body was gone. Remnants of the events came to her. The patronus leopardess taking form. The dementors fleeing, shrieking in pain. All except for that one. The one who clung on, too close to its prize to abandon it. A ball of light leaving Mrs. Bagshot’s mouth, her body already lifeless and laid flat on the stone floor. Then she was empty. She was dead.

Willa blinked, only aware that someone had entered the cell when her hand tightened around her snakewood wand and she heard herself whisper, “ _Evanesco._ ” The wand vanished.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, little lass.” An auror drawled, so used to prisoners muttering to themselves she took no notice of Willa’s Vanishing spell.

Willa made no response to her.

“Get up. You have to bathe before we return you. Law’s the law.” The woman said.

Willa nodded vaguely, still staring at the space where Mrs. Bagshot had last been.

A calloused hand ripped her to her feet and dragged her from the cell. Willa walked along with her, hardly seeing the doors of the other cells they passed on the way to the stairwell.

It was during their long descent Willa asked, “Am I being released?”

“Not exactly. Owl came this morning from the Minister of Magic himself. Says you’re to be released to a Mr. Septimus Malfoy on terms of contract. Guess you signed some contract you’re obliged to uphold. Indentured servitude, perhaps? They don’t like when those go to prison. Free labor wasted, eh?” The auror shrugged.

“The Triwizard Tournament,” Willa breathed. “Well, that was certainly an overlooked loophole.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Willa mumbled.

Her father said Headmaster Hayward would play his card. She thought of his testimony and how he never once mentioned the tournament. The headmaster would be back at Hogwarts now, classes in session. The Second Task must be arriving soon, she realized.

“What day is today?” she asked.

“Seventeenth of January.”

 _Too soon for the Second Task._ Willa thought as they exited the stairwell into a cramped hallway on a much lower floor of the prison. She decided the timing of her release must entirely be her father’s plan, whatever that entailed.

“How long have you been an auror?” she asked.

“Two years,” The woman puffed with pride. Her face, thick with scar tissue, was fully visible in the torchlight of this hallway. “Why?”

“Is Azkaban considered to be British soil?”

“It is. They claimed it back in 1720 when the Ministry took it over from that madman Ekrizdis. Officially British soil ever since.” she beamed, excited to share her specific knowledge with someone.

Willa realized her father could be anywhere now. The only thing truly protecting her was the fact his standing could not be reinstated under the laws surrounding treason. His lack of reaction to her comment on this fact in France assured her this was of little consequence to him. Clearly he was content with his will’s current state and had no intention of dying any time soon. This also meant he could not rejoin the Ministry. Willa remained baffled at what his plan could even entail.

This hallway led to the baths. A single pool of pristine water lay in the middle of a room featuring little else beyond a dress screen.

“Your old clothes are behind the screen. Someone else will be round to take you back to the Ministry.” The auror said then slammed shut the door and locked it behind her.

Willa did not bother to remove her prison robe, sliding into the freezing water and using the coarse fabric to scrub the grime from her best she could until the temperature was too much to bear. She recalled the wand from its vanished state and used a drying charm on herself before dressing. A loud knock on the door startled her into vanishing the wand again.

“Miss Gamp, make yourself decent.” a male voice called in an accent much more formal than the prior auror’s northern gruff.

Willa came around from the privacy screen as the door unlocked. A man in formal auror robes entered and gave her a nod.

“It is time to return you to the Ministry, Miss Gamp. I am presenting you to the care of the Majority Leader and then you will be required to stay within custody of your parents or assigned guardians, Castor and Nerodia Black, until you are able to return to Hogwarts to carry out your contractual duties. As this is a conditional release, you are required to wear these.” The man presented two metal cuffs, dull silver in color. “Any spells you cast, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will know.”

Willa held out her arms. The scent of singed metal filled the air as the cuffs sealed magically into place around her wrists. They did not feel like a cuff or bracelet. In fact, they seemed to have no weight or density at all, and Willa only knew they were there when she looked at her wrists and saw the metal there.

The auror escorted her down the remaining three flights and out to the area outside the prison where she had arrived initially two weeks ago, and apparated them into the Ministry’s auror landing zone.

* * *

The air hung tense in Septimus’ office at the Ministry of Magic. He sat behind his desk as the other seats were occupied by Dipsas Gamp and the Bagshot family. His secretary had discovered him in the morning, quickly casted “ _Rennervate,_ ” and helped to clean and mend his broken face. Septimus made him wait for an explanation, his chief priority being to send an owl to Azkaban to plead for Miranda’s execution to be postponed.

After that he had sent owls to both Dipsas and Byron, filling in his secretary as he composed these letters. In them, he explained to Dipsas that Willa was set to be released this morning and to Byron that Ardan had attacked him and implied Miranda would be executed but it was not confirmed. He requested both meet him at his office in the morning, and Byron had brought Bathilda, naturally, and Braxton, who woke up fully recovered in St. Mungo’s only yesterday.

Braxton now cradled Bathilda as he paced the small room while Dipsas and Byron sat with worried faces on the divan. Byron’s hand covered Dipsas’ to comfort her during what felt like an endless wait.

Finally Septimus’ secretary entered to say, “They have arrived.”

Septimus gave him a nod to let them in and a high ranking auror escorted Willa into the room. The auror went directly to Septimus, who tried to ignore him so he could assess Willa’s state. But the information was too pressing and the auror conveyed it in a low voice.

“Miranda Bagshot is dead.” He told Septimus, confirming the group’s fears.

“When?” Septimus asked.

“Dementor’s Kiss at 2:04 this morning.” The auror replied quietly.

Septimus went white, but it was the noise he heard next that upset him the most. Willa had let out a sobbing wail. He looked up to find her rushing into Braxton’s already full arms. As Braxton adjusted his hold on his baby sister to accommodate Willa’s heaving body, Septimus felt more helpless than he ever had before. Then he heard Willa speak.

"I am so sorry," she was blubbering to Braxton over and over as he coaxed her back. "I tried to stop it, but I was not strong enough. They killed her."

Septimus collapsed in his chair, unable to remain standing. She had tried to stop the Dementor's Kiss. He could hardly imagine the pain. How could he have let this happen? He turned to the auror and dismissed him while Braxton replied to Willa, “What are you saying?”

“Your mother. The dementors killed her.” Willa managed.

She felt Braxton’s knees buckling as he processed the news and moved to catch Bathilda when he collapsed to the ground. The baby began to cry while Willa knelt beside Braxton.

“Oh, Byron! I am so sorry.” Willa heard her mother say. The next moment, Mr. Bagshot was beside her, taking Bathilda from her and comforting his son.

Willa looked at Septimus. His expression wore pain and guilt and heartbreak. She pushed herself off the floor and walked to him, ignoring her mother's attempts to reach out to her.

They were silent a moment as she stood before him until Septimus finally said, "I do not know what to say."

Willa placed her hand on the side of his face; a rush went through her at the feel of his warm skin. She raked the tips of her fingers into the silky hair by his temple.

"I thought I was going to die." she whispered to him, "But you saved me."

He covered her hand with his own, squeezing it tightly as a few tears slipped down his cheek. He met her eyes, their blue as bright as ever, and said with a broken voice, "I love you, Willa."

She nodded and sat in his lap, cradling his face in her hands and kissing his forehead before saying, “I love you, Septimus.”

With that, she pulled his lips to hers. His arms moved around her waist, holding her securely against him as he returned her kisses.

A startled gasp came from her mother and Willa found herself laughing. It was cathartic and a relief. She had not been certain she would be able to laugh anymore. She saw her mother approached them.

“Wilhelmina Nerodia Gamp! This is hardly appropriate behavior!” Her mother said, grabbing her arm and yanking her off of Septimus. He let Willa go, knowing better than to argue with Dipsas at this moment.

“Mother, stop.” Willa said, facing her now.

“Your father will be furious. This is shameful.” Her mother hissed at her.

“Ardan Gamp’s opinion is of no consequence to me.” Willa said defiantly. “Do you see him here now?”

“He is not here because that man banished him from England.” Dipsas growled.

“ _That man_ should have executed him instead, as the crimes he committed merited.” Willa hissed, shaking herself from her mother’s grasp.

“Willa,” Septimus cautioned. He pulled his wand to lock his office door so the conversation’s noise would remain private.

“You cannot mean that.” Her mother said.

“If he had executed him, then Ciaran would be alive. Opala would be alive. I would not know what the Cruciatus Curse feels like and neither would you.” Willa said, starting to shake with anger.

“Wilhelmina, your father did not kill Ciaran.” Her mother said and added very quietly, “You did.”

“I thought that too before the dementors showed me the truth he obliviated from me, from us. The truth is he killed Ciaran and Opala then made me think I did as a punishment. He wanted me to feel the ultimate pain, mother. So, he made me believe I murdered my own brother for loving a No-Maj.” Willa replied.

Septimus’ heart raced with this revelation. He knew what it was to have your memories taken away, but not what it was to have them replaced so cruelly. Lila had never done that to him or their children.

Dipsas meanwhile stared at her daughter like she was mad. A twinge of remorse played on her expression, however, as if somehow she knew all of this to be true even if she could not believe it.

Willa fixed her mother with unforgiving eyes, “Do you really love Ardan?”

Her mother hesitated. Willa noticed Braxton and his father were both watching her reaction, their faces stunned by the information she had just relayed.

Dipsas looked away, towards Mr. Bagshot, and then back at her daughter, “No. I never loved your father. But marriage is not about love.” She eyed Septimus for emphasis to Willa and continued, “It is about obligation.”

Willa shook her head and adamantly said, “No. Perhaps when you were first married it felt that way, but your husband killed his own son—your son. I will not call him my father or belong to him any longer, and you have a choice now, mother: me or him.”

Dipsas’ face softened, “You do not understand. You are too young. Where will you go?”

“Remember in Septimus’ London home when I said you could come live with us? The offer stands.” Willa said, giving her mother’s hand a small squeeze.

Dipsas shook her head with a frown, “I never was at Septimus’ home. I have never once been to any of the Malfoy estates.”

“What do you mean? You were there. We spoke. You told me that you always have loved me. You called me Mina.” Willa said, alarmed.

Septimus stood up fast, looking at Dipsas quite directly so he could enter her mind. “Dipsas, this is critical. You and your sister were not at my home on the twenty-ninth of December?”

“No. I was in Dublin still. I did not come to England until the thirtieth. Nerodia was with me, as well. She and Castor came to convince me to come stay in England through Willa’s trial. They did not wish for me to be all alone at such a time. Nerodia mentioned her children had visited Willa.” Dipsas said. She was telling the truth.

“I am an idiot.” Septimus groaned, ripping off the chain that held his locket and throwing them into the fire. He looked at Willa, “It must have been Polyjuice Potion. We both thought they seemed off.”

“Polyjuice Potion? You think Ardan was my imposter?” Dipsas asked.

“It is plausible.” Septimus said.

“Who else would know to call me Mina? It must have been him.” Willa said to her mother, who nodded in agreement.

“Willa, I have to go.” Septimus said. “The Manor is unprotected. If Ardan killed Ciaran…”

“Then he can access the wing.” Willa whispered.

Septimus’ face hardened as he said, “I have to check on the house elves. I would not put it past Ardan to kill all of them merely to spite me.”

“You should not go alone.” Willa pleaded. “One person is no match for Ardan, let alone Lila. Think of all she has done already.”

“What do you mean by Lila? Lila is dead.” Dipsas said.

“No, she…” Septimus trailed off.

“Uncle Corvinus helped him resurrect her.” Willa finished.

“You truly are a colossal idiot, Septimus.” Dipsas snarled. “But Willa is right, you cannot go alone. I will go with you.”

“Mother, no! It is unsafe.” Willa said. “Miranda came to me before the dementors… after Ardan came to see her. He promised her he would not remarry, mother. That I was enough for his legacy with his other two children already dead. If he made such a promise, it is unsafe for you.”

“His other _two_ children?” Dipsas frowned.

Willa nodded, then at her mother’s blank face, she looked at Mr. Bagshot who seemed equally confused. She spun back to face Septimus with wide eyes, “Do only you know?”

Septimus nodded with a tight expression then said, “I guess it does not matter now.”

“One of you tell us now.” Braxton demanded.

“Your mother and Ardan were having an affair. Bethany was sired by Ardan Gamp, not your father.” Septimus said to him then looked to Byron, “She did not wish for anyone to know.”

Dipsas let out a loud laugh and then apologized for it. She started for the door, shaking her head as she said, “Come on, Septimus.”

“Dipsas, you cannot go after him. I forbid it.” Byron said in a voice so commanding that even Braxton jumped. He had stepped in front of her to block her progress, and Dipsas met his eyes with a sad look.

“It is my foul husband that is causing all of this.” She said evenly. “I knew we should not have returned to Dublin, that something about it was not right, but I wanted to be close to Willa. I chose to ignore all the signs. This is my mess to clean up.”

“It is not your fault, Dipsas. It never was.” Septimus said to her softly. She nodded at him, though everyone could see she did not believe him. He then added, “But I need to leave right now.”

Dipsas started again for the door, prompting Byron to plead, “Dipsas, please stay.”

“I have to do this. I have failed to protect my child her entire life. I have to do this for her now.” Dipsas replied in a tone that no one could argue with, including Mr. Bagshot. Finally, she turned to Willa to say, “Do not leave this office until we return.”

“Mind you do return.” Willa said sternly.

“We will.” Septimus said with certainty and leaned down to kiss her tenderly on the lips. “I only wish to check on my house elves.”

Willa nodded and embraced him tightly.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you.” He said back, kissing her briefly again before following Dipsas out the door.

Once they were gone, she lowered herself into the plush comfort of Septimus’ leather chair. She glanced at the desk and saw three portraits faced Septimus while he worked. A double frame with Octavia and Quintus side-by-side and the one Bertok painted of her. Touched, she closed her eyes and willed all to be well at Malfoy Manor, or as well as it could be.

“Father, why would only Mr. Malfoy know about mother’s affair?” Braxton asked, prompting Willa to open her eyes.

“Sit with me, Brax.” Mr. Bagshot said softly.

Braxton did and his father took a deep breath before he began, “Now, this cannot be shared outside this room for your own protection. Miss Gamp and Mr. Malfoy’s children already know and have sworn their secrecy on it.”

Braxton nodded, glancing at Willa briefly before turning to his father. “I promise I will not share anything you tell me.”

“Not with Mr. Potter or Mr. Prince, and especially not with any female prospects.” his father was very serious.

“I promise.”

“Your mother is not a Borgin. She is a Malfoy.” He said then corrected himself, “She was a Malfoy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Basilides Malfoy, Septimus Malfoy’s father, was your mother’s true father.” He explained quietly before adding, “Septimus is your uncle.”

“How could that be possible? He does not care about our family at all. He let my mother go to prison.”

“On the contrary, Braxton, he has kept our family from becoming destitute.” He said.

“Why though? He never spent any time with us. He is just trying to buy you off like he does with everyone else.” Braxton protested.

“Take that back. That is a lie.” Willa said angrily.

“I suppose he does not have to pay off you.” Braxton threw at her. “Since you are wealthier than him.”

Willa stared at him with a deadly intensity and said, “You do not know the first thing about Septimus.”

“Stop it. Both of you.” Mr. Bagshot snapped. He looked at his son severely, “Quintus Malfoy saved your life in France because you are his family. The two of you used to be friends. I planned to tell you all of this once your mother was released from prison or when you came of age, whichever came sooner. Your mother and I were…”

Mr. Bagshot trailed off.

“Papa?” Braxton said softly.

Willa, who had relaxed back into the soft chair after Mr. Bagshot reprimanded them, opened her eyes to find he was crying. She stood and walked to them, wordlessly taking Bathilda from the now sobbing Mr. Bagshot and running a soothing hand over Braxton’s shoulder before returning to Septimus’ desk chair.

Bathilda smiled up at her while Mr. Bagshot continued to sob, and Willa began to poke her lightly in different spots causing her to laugh.

Braxton rubbed his father’s back until he calmed down.

“Ardan takes everything.” He finally managed. His voice was shaky but strengthened as he continued, “He took Dipsas. He took Miranda. He even ensured the execution took place. Septimus said he was here. That he prevented him from petitioning.”

“Ardan was here?” Willa asked with alarm.

“Yes, he attacked Septimus last night here. His secretary found him this morning.”

“What happened?” Willa demanded.

“He did not tell us, but I asked his secretary and he found him under the full body binding curse, covered in blood with several broken bones.” Mr. Bagshot said.

In a quiet, emotionless voice Willa said, “I already plan to kill Ardan, if that helps.”

Mr. Bagshot shot up and marched to her. He looked her in the eye with a very serious expression on his tear-streamed face and said, “Do not say things like that aloud.”

“Yes, sir.” Willa squirmed.

He sat back down, confident his message had been received, and took Braxton’s hand. He drew a calming breath and looked at his son, then he explained everything that had happened. He started with the moment Septimus entered their lives after discovering through his father’s will Miranda was his half-sister and continued through up to the moment Septimus erased their memories of his family’s involvement in their lives.

Byron and Septimus then established an agreement that he would support Miranda privately with Byron as the custodian until it was the appropriate time to tell the children and Miranda the truth again. That time had come given Miranda’s death, as her Borgin inheritance would now be passed to down Braxton. If the truth came out, Braxton’s uncle, Miranda’s brother, would inherit it instead.

Willa watched Braxton’s reactions as the story unfolded. He seemed disbelieving still, and she wondered how long it would take for him to process all this information. The only thing he seemed to fully comprehend were the logistics of his maternal inheritance. Willa realized he must have no paternal one. Mr. Bagshot, like her mother, had to marry for money; just as Mrs. Bagshot had said in Azkaban.

Bathilda began to wail and wriggle in Willa’s arms, and Mr. Bagshot came over.

 “Let me take her for a walk. We have been cooped up in here for some hours.” He said, reaching down to take his daughter back from her. Heading for the door he said, “Do not leave the office, please.”

Willa and Braxton nodded their understanding and he left them alone in Septimus’ office. After a few minutes of thick silence, Willa got up to sit beside Braxton on the divan.

“When did you leave the hospital?”

“Yesterday.” Braxton said.

Willa nodded for a moment then suddenly wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, tentatively at first but then tighter as the embrace continued. Neither had known yesterday if they would see the other ever again.

“You should have left me there and gotten yourself out. You would be at Hogwarts now.” Willa murmured against him.

“No, I would never have left you there. I could never do that.” He said.

“It was my fault. I should have been stronger. Better at apparation.”

“Look at me,” Braxton pulled back and cupped Willa’s face in his hands.

When her eyes met his, he said, “This was not your fault.”

She nodded against his grasp, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. Braxton brushed them away with his thumbs.

“Your mother found me in Azkaban so I could tell you something for her.” Willa said through a sniffle.

“What?” He asked softly.

“That she loves you and she is sorry.” Willa said.

“What is she sorry about?” He shook his head, brow furrowed.

“She seemed to feel you blamed her for everything. I assured her it was not the case.” Willa said.

Braxton began to cry again and Willa hugged him.

“I want to tell her.” He croaked as the sobs took him over. “I want to tell her she does not need to be sorry.”

Willa squeezed him tighter and rubbed his back soothingly. She rested her head on him as he relaxed into her. They stayed this way until Braxton realized Willa had fallen asleep. He moved her so she was lying down on the divan and put his coat over her body.

* * *

When Willa woke the first thing she saw was a pair of giant green eyes watching her from across the room. She bolted upright, screaming, “Stay away from me!”

The noise of conversation ceased, and her mother was beside her, holding her trembling frame steady while she shushed her.

“It is alright. You are safe here.” She said calmingly.

Willa looked around and noticed the green eyes belonged to a house elf, one of six in the room. The house elf she yelled at shuddered and Septimus knelt before him and spoke quietly to calm him down.

“What happened?” Willa asked. She noticed the Bagshots were gone. “Where is Braxton?”

“He went home with his father a few minutes ago. You were not waking when he tried to say goodbye.” Her mother said.

“What happened? The house elves are okay? What about the manor? Lila?”

Dipsas went quiet. She glanced at Septimus warily. He approached the divan and leaned down to kiss Willa on the head.

“Lila was not there. Ardan burnt the manor to the ground. Fiendfyre by the look of it.” Septimus said.

“Do you think the fire might have destroyed her?” Willa asked.

“We can hope.” Septimus said without any shred of hope in his voice.

“What about the townhome?” Willa pressed.

“Safe. It has stronger fortifications than the manor and is surrounded by Muggle homes, so much riskier to destroy with magic. I checked on it regardless. Hobney assured me nothing at all had happened and I read his mind to be sure.”

“Your entire Wiltshire Estate is gone?” Willa asked after a moment.

Septimus shook his head.

“It is in ruins, but not entirely gone. The majority of the gardens and orchard remain and the underground level is intact.” He laughed lightly. “That is where all the wine is stored. So all is not lost.”

Willa tried to laugh but it came out as a small smile.

“I will rebuild it. Not our first fire there and doubtfully our last.” He said almost cheerily but Willa could see in his eyes the hint of despair. She reached out for his hand.

“I am sorry he did this to you.” She said.

Septimus nodded, squeezing her hand. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Catapult.” It was so quiet only she could hear. He kissed her cheek and then stood.

“Willa, let us leave Mr. Malfoy and get you to a real bed.” Dipsas said.

“I can return with him to the townhome.” Willa protested, looking at Septimus with confusion. Surely he wanted her by his side now that she was out of Azkaban.

“Per your release conditions, you have to be with your guardian until you are ready to return to Hogwarts for your Champion duties.” Septimus explained.

Willa said nothing. She had not believed it would be this restrictive.

“I also promised Byron I would organize Miranda’s funeral to ease his burden. Plus I need to settle in the house elves.” He said gently.

Willa nodded, glancing at the dozen peering eyes behind him.

“We will see each other soon. I have all your things, after all.” Septimus smiled reassuringly.

“Willa, we need to get back to Black Manor to make sure Castor has set all the protections on the house.” Dipsas said pointedly, pulling her up and towards the door.

“Wait,” Willa said turning back to Septimus. “When will I see you?”

“Soon,” he repeated but this time with more meaning to his expression. _Catapult,_ Willa thought, realizing it was the password to his townhome. She could see him as soon as she wanted.

Willa grinned and Septimus gave his sly smile. She tugged herself from her mother’s grip and went to him for a farewell kiss.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you, too. Now go get some rest.” He whispered back before kissing her once more.

* * *

Willa slipped out of the bedroom Aunt Nerodia had assigned her, a different one than she had in August which was now occupied by her mother. She wrapped her coat around her and hurried quietly down the hallway for the back stairwell of Black Manor. She snuck through the house to the central fireplace that was connected to the Floo. It would have been easier to apparate, but her spell would have been tracked.

“Miss Wilhelmina?” a squeaky voice asked as Willa took a pinch of Floo Powder from the sterling vase on the mantle.

Willa spun to find Mirella’s wide eyes and held a finger to her mouth. The house elf nodded her understanding and Willa stepped into the fireplace. She dropped the powder, saying clearly her intended location then whispering the word, “Catapult.” A dizzying moment later she was inside Septimus’ London townhome in front of the Floo fireplace on the second floor.

“Mistress Wilhelmina?” Hobney said with a startle, having fallen asleep during his watch duties. “I will fetch my master for you.”

“Thank you, Hobney.”

He snapped his fingers to disapparate and less than a minute later Septimus walked into the room directly to her and embraced her.

“I could not stay there. I did not feel safe with the Blacks or even with my own mother after what I learned about my father and Ciaran. “Willa said.

“You are safe here.” Septimus said softly as he rubbed her back soothingly.

A long time passed while Willa let Septimus hold her before he finally asked, “What do you need? Food? Sleep? Music?”

Willa smiled at the last suggestion but said, “I feel cold like I will never be warm again. And I feel like I am covered in grime and salt.”

Septimus took her hand and led her to the small doorway beside his bedroom. There was no space for a room here as his office was directly beside his bedroom wall, but inside she found it a large bathroom. A Muggle bathtub sat on the tile flooring.

“I find their invention quite refreshing.” Septimus smiled. “And much easier to clean than an actual pool like most wizards indulge in.”

He flicked his wand and the tub began to fill with water so hot steam came from it.

“I am certain the Muggles would envy your ability to have hot water on demand.” Willa said as Septimus took her coat from her and hung it on a hook. Once the tub was nearly full, she removed her undergown. Septimus masked his reaction to her body, which was covered in bruises and several pounds lighter than when he last saw it a few weeks before. It was the first time the surname Gaunt might actually describe her accurately. Instead he helped her into the tub with a warm smile.

“How is the temperature?”

“Perfect.” Willa said lowering herself into the water. “How many hidden rooms do you have in this house?”

Septimus laughed and reached for a sponge and some soap.

“Let me see… This one, my vault, and the house elves’ quarters, which are quite large underneath the house. I try to avoid hosting guests overnight when I can, so I never tell anyone about the other guest rooms, but there is an entire floor of them.”

“A fourth floor?” Willa mused.

Septimus was scrubbing her beneath the water with the sponge in a calm, repetitive manner.

“Yes. Technically it is the third floor and Quintus and Octavia’s rooms are on the fourth. That is why there is the opening in the ceiling there where the family area is on this floor.”

“I see.” Willa nodded.

“Would you like to wash your hair?” He asked. “I have some potions for it.”

“Is this why your hair always looks so magnificent?” Willa grinned.

“Yes,” Septimus laughed. “Magnificent. What a word.”

Willa laughed now too but it faded quickly, and she felt the heat of tears beginning to fall from her eyes. Septimus found her hand in the water and held it. She stared into nothing for a long time and they stayed in silence, tears streaming down her face.

Finally Willa spoke, “He killed him. All this time I never did. He robbed me of my grief.”

“It is terrible what he did.” Septimus said. “But you still can grieve your brother and Opala now that you know the truth.”

Willa nodded and swallowed.

“I feel like I do not know who I am anymore.” She whispered. “Perhaps I never did. I was never myself. Always under his control. Even now with your border spell, I do not know if I am entirely myself. I do not even know what that means.”

Willa looked at Septimus with a frown and continued in a more pragmatic voice, “He visited me in Azkaban.”

“Yes, he told me.” Septimus nodded.

“He has a plan, Septimus. A plan I appear to be built into.” She said.

“Byron told me you intend to kill him.”

Willa nodded.

“Please do not do that to yourself. Trust me when I say it is not worth it.” Septimus said, cupping a wet hand around her face. “You think you do not know who you are, but I know you, Willa. You are not that person.”

“Septimus,” Willa whispered, covering his hand with her own. “I am afraid of what he is going to make me do.”

“We will figure out what his plan entails and stop it.” Septimus said with confidence.

Willa relaxed at these words and kissed him a few times before saying, “Will you wash my hair please?”

“Of course,” Septimus smiled.


	34. The End of the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello lovely readers! I know I don’t leave notes often, so first I want to take a moment to thank all of you for reading and a special thanks to all those who kudo and comment. I appreciate it so so so much and I know my beta does too. Warms my little Slytherin heart :)
> 
> If you are not getting update alerts for this fic, now is a great time to turn those on because… **I am going on a brief hiatus for the rest of July.** This is primarily to get the story caught back up, so I can publish the final 13 chapters + epilogue weekly without break. Truly I very much wanted to avoid this, I even waited until I had 24 chapters written and beta’d before I started to publish! 
> 
> Please rest assured that this WIP will be finished. The entire thing is fully outlined and I know precisely what happens, I just need time to catch up so you can read the best version of this story. So, feel free to savor chapter 34, or heck, go do a reread of the entire book! Also, check out the fic’s [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/theslytherinheart/?hl=en) and [tumblr](https://theslytherinheart.tumblr.com/) pages for ongoing aesthetics, character spotlights, and fan casting :)
> 
> I’ll see you in August!

Rigel thought things would resume some semblance of normalcy now that Hogwarts had been back in session for a couple of weeks. In some ways, it had. Classes were their usual level of difficulty, especially for him with N.E.W.T.S. looming in May. Braxton’s letters to him, Clement and Arlo arrived only that Friday morning with the good news he had woken up and was returning to Hogwarts on Monday. Rigel’s hope that Elnath would somehow relax back into Slytherin and her Prefect duties, however, appeared in vain.

The friendly alliance he formed with Octavia Malfoy over the fall proved a sore enough change for Elnath that she now sat with the Beauxbatons’ students at every meal. Her attachment to Patrice continued to be the source of many rumors, and it was startling to see how little his sister seemed to care. They both were indoctrinated on the value of reputation and perception as a true source of power, yet she appeared to take no stock in this now.

“Everything well?” Octavia asked him from across the Slytherin table at dinner Friday evening.

“Oh, yes.” Rigel smiled.

She eyed him and he admitted, “I am worried about Elnath.”

Octavia leaned in and said, “As I am worried about Quintus. He continues to sit with the Beauxbatons, but it seems only so he can be close to Catherine. It is not as if anyone would care he sat Ravenclaw or she sat with us. People will think their loyalties lie with France.”

They both glanced towards Josephina Flint, whom Octavia had publicly forgiven after the girl groveled for a week to her, expressing again and again how she did not stand with her father on anything. Octavia shared privately with Rigel that she did not forgive or trust Josephina, but had agreed with his assessment that it would be wiser to appear she did.

Mr. Malfoy’s owl arrived then, landing before Octavia when it could not find Quintus at the Slytherin table. The owl waited while Octavia opened the letter and read it, knowing she would need it for comfort by the end of its contents.

“It is to both Quintus and me.” She told Rigel, who peered on with concern. Evening owls rarely brought happy news.

“Willa has been released.” Octavia reported with a smile.

“Released? Is she returning to Hogwarts soon like Braxton?” Rigel asked.

Octavia made no response, dropping the letter as tears formed in her eyes. Rigel reached for it, asking permission with his eyes. She nodded her consent and he began to read.

> My Darling Children,
> 
> I write to inform you on three matters. The first is that Miss Gamp has been released from Azkaban this morning. It is only a temporary release for now, as she is bound by magical contract to participate in the Triwizard Tournament and must return to Hogwarts in order to uphold these duties. Once she has regained her health, she will return.
> 
> The second is not happy news. Mrs. Bagshot was executed in the early hours of this morning. I offered to plan the funeral, but the Bagshots do not wish for anyone to leave Hogwarts in order to attend. The crowd will be large enough with all the families obligated to pay their respects to Callum Borgin’s daughter. I will convey both your condolences to the family.
> 
> As I am certain you will have learned by now, Braxton is restored to full health. Mr. Bagshot will deliver him to Hogwarts on Monday, so you ought to seek him out to offer your condolences. I am certain he will appreciate seeing you both again.
> 
> The third item, I will not dwell on long as it is only a small setback, however important for you both to know. Our Manor in Wiltshire has burnt to the ground. Only the underground level and grounds remain intact. I believe we already relocated your most important possessions to the townhome, so hopefully not much of sentimental value was lost for either of you.
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Your father

Octavia had composed herself by the time Rigel looked up again. Another owl flew in that Rigel recognized as Braxton’s family owl, and it dropped a letter in front of Clement and Arlo at the Gryffindor table. Elnath sat nearby where they were and caught his eye.

“I am going to relay the news of Willa to Elnath.” Rigel told Octavia.

“Yes, I need to show Quintus the letter.” She nodded.

They both stood and went to the table of Beauxbatons students across the Great Hall. Octavia slid next to Quintus and Rigel kept walking towards the front of the hall, closest to the professor’s table in the front. Dinner tonight was informal, and most of the professors had already left, though he noticed Professor Stump was up there watching him as he approached Elnath. Rigel gave him a nod of acknowledgement and the professor quickly looked away, as if caught in the act of doing something he should not have been.

Rigel looked down at Elnath’s friends, the beautiful Beauxbatons’ Champion, Xabier, who was admittedly even more attractive in person than portraiture. A fact he would never divulge to Clement, of course. Next to him sat Penelope and beside her was Hélène. He did not like either of them very much, though he could not exactly say why. It was more a feeling. Across sat Elnath next to Patrice, whose hand caressed her upper thigh under the table.

The three facing him looked up as he arrived, and Elnath turned. Patrice did not remove his hand from his sister’s body upon seeing him there.

“Rigel,” Elnath said. “Come to visit us at the Beauxbatons table finally?”

“I have good news.” Rigel said, ignoring her sardonic tone.

“It is polite to say hello to everyone first.” She said pointedly.

He knew this was a direct response to his prior effort to speak to her about her flagrant disregard for propriety in relation to Patrice. He worried she would ruin herself if he did not figure out how to intervene. Commanding her to end things with Patrice certainly had not worked.

He smiled at everyone now, including Patrice, who likely was not as horrible as his sister made him appear through her own behavior. That or France was just excessively public in their personal affairs. Regardless, he would have to find a suitable replacement for her interests and push him onto her. That combined with exposing Patrice as a womanizer should be enough to reset her reputation and give her a sympathetic way out of the relationship.

“Good evening, everyone.” Rigel said in French to Elnath’s friends.

“Good evening, Mr. Black.” Hélène replied in English. “I hear Braxton is recovered. This is great news.”

“Yes, he should return to Hogwarts on Monday.” Rigel nodded.

“The way he always spoke about you in France, well, it made me jealous, I must admit. You two are so close, you must be _very_ pleased.” She grinned.

Rigel laughed nervously and snuck a look at Elnath to see if she had interpreted what Hélène said for any form of its truth. She appeared unmoved by the exchange, and if Rigel had to specify an emotion, he would say she was displeased with Hélène’s company. It was not something he could disagree with, and he wondered exactly what Braxton found so interesting about the girl. Well, besides the apparently excellent sex he had boasted about in his letters.

“I am happy he is well and returns soon.” Rigel nodded, then said to Elnath, “But there is more news. Willa too will be returning to Hogwarts.”

Elnath’s demeanor changed dramatically. Her cool pretense dropped as she jumped up to hug Rigel.

“When? How?” she bubbled.

“As soon as she is returned to full health. She must participate in the tournament. Mr. Malfoy sent a letter.” He explained.

“To you?” Elnath asked with surprise.

“You and Mr. Malfoy exchange letters?” Hélène chirped up.

“Hélène, let them talk.” Penelope hissed, though all of them watched Rigel for his response.

“Yes, I am to apprentice him in the summer. But this letter was not to me.” He explained.

“Why should Mr. Malfoy need to send an evening owl just to inform his children of this? Why would they care?” Elnath wondered aloud.

“There was more in the letter.” Rigel lowered his voice and pulled Elnath away from Hélène’s prying ears to the very front of the Great Hall.

“What?” she demanded.

“Braxton’s mother was executed this morning.” Rigel said very quietly.

“That is horrible.” Elnath said. She did not look too moved, however, and frowned as she asked, “Why would Mr. Malfoy convey that to his children so immediately? Their families are barely even acquainted. Is it the connection to the Borgins? Quintus said once they had a business connection to them as a result of his father’s marriage contract with the Burke family.”

“I think Mr. Malfoy thought they would care on an emotional level.” Rigel said, shaking his head. “Octavia visited Braxton every day at St. Mungo’s. He and Willa saved her life in France.”

“When is the funeral? This Sunday? Mother and father will expect us to be there. I should tell Hélène. I am certain she will want to attend to support Braxton.” Elnath said.

“No, they requested none of us attend. Mother and father would have sent us a letter.” Rigel said. “Besides, Hélène never visited Braxton once in the hospital. If Braxton wanted to tell her the news, I imagine he would send her an owl himself. Do you not agree?”

“Hélène was not permitted to visit anyone.” Elnath spat angrily.

“Why do you defend her? You do not even like her.” Rigel balked.

“It is _you_ who does not like her. You who refuses to give any of my friends a chance. You so valiantly proclaimed allegiance to the French terrorists who nearly murdered our cousin and now cannot support any of the innocent involved. The burden of your hypocrisy must be so trying, brother, but do not dare put your emotions on me, I bear enough on my own.” Elnath growled at him, her eyes starting to grow red.

“Elnath,” Rigel started, reaching for her arm to calm her. “Your eyes are red.”

“Not a surprise!” she yelled.

Professor Stump approached them and Rigel shielded Elnath from his view so he would not see her eye color.

“Is everything all right? Your conversation has become rather loud.” Professor Stump said in calm manner of speaking. He craned his neck, attempting to glimpse Elnath behind him.

“Yes, I was just leaving to check on a project in the dungeon.” Elnath said, stepping around Rigel. He saw her eyes returned to their usual blue and exhaled in relief. She likely was intending to visit the basilisks however, so the red would return soon enough. The blood magic bond grew stronger faster now that she was back in their proximity. It had been apparent the moment he first introduced her to the two baby basilisks over a fortnight ago.

“Would you like me to escort you out?” Professor Stump asked Elnath.

Rigel looked between them as Elnath gave a consenting nod. He suddenly remembered the time he caught the professor saying a rather intimate goodbye to his sister in front of the common room entrance. As they walked away from him now, down the length of the Great Hall, Rigel realized he had found the suitable replacement.

The crowd, which had grown quiet as the Blacks rowed in front of them all, finally resumed their chatter. Rigel glanced at the Gryffindor table for Clement, but only found Arlo there.

“Where is he?” Rigel asked.

“We got a letter from Braxton. It is addressed to all three of us.” Arlo explained, handing the letter to Rigel.

“Is it about Mrs. Bagshot?” Rigel asked, not glancing at the parchment.

“How did you know?”

“Mr. Malfoy sent Octavia a letter.”

“Why would she care?” Arlo wondered. “Wait, do you think she is interested in Braxton still?”

“I could not say. Perhaps you should ask her yourself?” Rigel said pointedly. Arlo claimed to be interested in Octavia but was yet to make any move on her.

Arlo looked around the Great Hall for her and his face fell a little as he bit out, “Oh she is with Quintus.”

“I need to check on Clement.” Rigel said with some urgency.

“He’s in your usual spot.” Arlo said, and Rigel smiled his thanks then spun on his heel to hurry down to the dungeons.

He ended up passing Elnath and Professor Stump in the main hall leading towards the common room entrance. He said a mild hello to them as he hurried by. Once to Salazar’s Study, he threw a furtive glance back to make sure they looked away while slipped into the hidden door.

Rigel found Clement in a sobbing heap on the bed they had moved into the room some time in November. He rushed to him, spooning around his body and methodically combing his fingers through the boy’s unkempt hair.

Rigel had expected this reaction from Clement as soon as he read that the Bagshots did not want anyone from Hogwarts to attend the funeral. He had read between the lines, understanding that only purebloods would be invited to the funeral given Mrs. Bagshot’s lineage to the Borgins, and that Braxton was politely refuting any of his friends’ attendance in order to save Clement the insult of exclusion. Perhaps too, Rigel thought now, Braxton did not want Hélène to attend after learning all that had happened to him.

In a heated row Rigel and Clement had back in mid-October, he had effectively learned Clement rarely understood the finer nuances of wizarding society. Sure enough, once Clement calmed down enough to talk, he confirmed his lack of comprehension of what Braxton really intended.

“He says the funeral is the twentieth, this Sunday, but he does not want me to come. He says it is too overwhelming and he does not want more than family there. Do you think he means it?” Clement asked.

Rigel chose his words carefully.

“He will return to Hogwarts Monday. I imagine it is simply a lot to handle. His father must be devastated. I cannot imagine trying to manage a grieving parent while handling my friends in that situation.” He said.

“That makes sense.” Clement conceded after consideration. “Yes, and I will see him Monday. I can express my condolences then.”

“Yes, we both can.” Rigel nodded with a warm smile.

Clement kissed him lightly and said, “Thank you. You always know what to say.”

 _Only because I love you._ Rigel thought. He merely smiled though and kissed him more.

He knew it would be unfair to express that level of emotion to Clement, whom he could never truly give himself to. Even if the world somehow permitted two men to marry and live in harmony, Clement was a half-blood and the Blacks would never permit that match.

* * *

A kind and thoughtful reply from Quintus and Octavia arrived at Septimus’ townhome on Saturday. Willa had been there since Flooing over on Friday from Black Manor.  Septimus had sent an owl to her mother to inform her of the arrangement. None of them wished Willa to go back to prison, so they all agreed to keep up the appearance Willa was staying with the Blacks. Willa spent the majority of the time sleeping. When awake, Septimus made her drink a restorative potion and eat the bone broth Hobney made. The potion was bitter, but the broth felt good, warm and soothing.

By Saturday evening, her energy had increased along with her body weight. Two weeks of hardly eating or sleeping erased by a mere potion. She sat for dinner, just her and Septimus, a preview of sorts into their future marriage, should she ever be pardoned from Azkaban.

He caught her up on everything she had slept through: her mother’s visits throughout the past two days, the lack of any leads on Ardan’s plans or whereabouts, Aunt Nerodia’s horrified confirmation that Uncle Corvinus could have had enough access to her to steal her hair for use in Polyjuice Potion. By two-way mirror from across the channel, Vincent reported the tensions growing as King Louis XVI had been convicted on Friday of high treason by the Muggle National Convention. True to his word, Prince George sent messenger to Septimus just before dinner to report this news as soon as he had learned it.

“This is potentially great news.” Septimus told her.

“How so?” Willa asked.

“If the King is executed, France will want to show their power to the world. England is their chief rival. Should France declare war on England, it is unlikely any Englishman—regardless of magical ability—can remain loyal to French sympathies. Of any sort. You would turn into a national hero overnight.”

Willa mulled it over, searching for the catch and finding none. As much as she did not wish for war with France, it was that very action that would set her free.

Miranda’s funeral on Sunday was mostly a social and political affair, and Willa was glad to see the large numbers, reaching nearly a hundred witches and wizards, leave Godric’s Hollow once it was over. Callum Borgin and his son Leopold were the last to go, giving Byron and Braxton their condolences one more time and allowing them the privacy to bury Miranda.

An oppressive January chill bore into the remaining group, made up of the Bagshots, Septimus, Willa and Dipsas. The clouds were heavy with snow yet to fall, causing an eerie pressure in the graveyard. Willa squeezed Septimus’ hand now that the others were gone. She knew what he had done in this graveyard not very many plots away. Braxton pushed a stray tear from his cheek and Dipsas stood idly between him and Willa. Bathilda cradled in his right arm, Byron had just begun using magic to shift the first of the dirt over Miranda’s coffin when the pop of someone apparating caused them all pull out their wands.

Ardan Gamp walked towards them with purpose, his black robes flowing with his quick movement. He stopped at the edge of the open grave and let out a long sigh as he peered inside.

“You are not welcome here.” Septimus said angrily.

Ardan did not look away from the coffin as he cast a silencing spell on Septimus, but Willa cast “ _Protego_ ” quickly enough to shield him. Ardan spun to look at her, his black eyes widened as if he was surprised to see her. With a gait of haste, he stood in front of her. His face looked pained and Willa wondered if he was injured in some way.

“Willa,” he said with some difficulty. He grabbed hold of her wrists and she froze in place, his demeanor so uncharacteristic it was disarming. He continued in a strangled voice, as if he fought some magic inside him; his words were simple, yet foreign to Willa, “I am so sorry. I hope this helps you to run.”

She smelled the change first, a burning metallic scent in the cold air. She looked down to see the magic tracking cuffs had been severed by his magic. _Why would he free her now?_

Willa stepped away from him, eyes ablaze with hatred.

“You should leave now before I kill you.” She hissed.

“Willa,” Septimus cautioned.

Ardan’s black eyes went even darker than usual.

“Why are you even here? You did not know Miranda.” He said to Willa, now in a cold tone without any strain. He backed away, back to the grave, then addressed everyone else in a similar way, “None of you knew her. She only ever loved me and our daughter, just as I only ever loved them. And you, Willa. I always loved you.”

“You are incapable of love.” Willa bit out, her wand pointed directly at his heart as she took a few steps towards him.

Septimus wrapped an arm around her torso and gently pulled her back to his side.

“You better hold her tight, Malfoy. I told your wife I was done with her, so now she knows Willa is no longer off limits.” Ardan sneered. “Lila was always so cruel, I bet she will force you to watch her tear Willa apart.”

“Ardan, stop.” Dipsas cried.

“Almost, Dipsas, almost. Though I do not know how long you will even have once I am gone.” He said with a puzzled frown.

“What do you mean gone?” Dipsas asked.

Ardan ignored her and instead threw his wand into the open grave saying, “It would not work against me anyway.”

“What do you mean, Ardan?” Dipsas said frantically.

“Mother,” Willa began towards her, Septimus protectively at her side. “Mother, calm down.”

Ardan pulled out a pistol and everyone froze. Willa recognized it as the one he had shot Ciaran with. He cocked the gun and put the barrel against his temple. Dipsas began to scream and run towards him.

Willa tried to hold her back, but she was too determined, rushing forward until Byron caught her arm with his free hand and yanked her hard to the ground.

“Miranda, I will see you soon.” Ardan said softly.

The gunshot rang out ferociously in the stillness and Ardan’s body fell forward into the grave.

“No!” Dipsas screamed. “Ardan, no!”

Willa felt like everything inside her stopped working and she collapsed forward. Septimus caught her midway and lifted her back to her feet.

“Willa!” Braxton hurried to her.

Willa felt like her head was going to explode with pain, and then, suddenly everything felt clear. She stood up straight and blinked a few times. Looking around she murmured, “There was no fog.”

Septimus was about to inquire about the fog, but Dipsas made such a horrible noise they all looked at her with apprehension. She was on her hands and knees at the edge of the grave. Byron was on the ground beside her trying to comfort her.

She started to murmur something over and over again. After a moment, they realized she was saying Ardan’s name.

Willa hurried beside her, “Mama, look at me. Mama!”

Dipsas looked at her blankly, her eyes devoid of comprehension.

“Mama, it is me, Willa. Your daughter.” Willa said.

Dipsas stared at her.

“Mama,” Willa shook her.

“The curse lifted when he died.” Septimus said to no one in particular.

“The curse?” Byron asked, looking up at him.

“The Imperius Curse.” He clarified. “Dipsas just reentered her own mind for the first time in… maybe over a decade.”

Dipsas began to rock back and forth on her hands and knees wailing, “Ardan” repeatedly.

Willa rubbed her mother’s back and said to Septimus, “I felt it too, before when I fell. I thought it broke when I reentered the British Isles?”

“It did, but my spell was less powerful than his death. That is why you are in less pain than your mother.” Septimus explained. “Your mind was able to work through it all slowly. She is being inundated all at once. She has only been back in England a few weeks.”

Willa nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek that had fallen. When she really looked at Septimus, she saw him anew. It was as if he had become more beautiful in the past five minutes. She looked at Braxton and felt the same, even with grief and shock written all over his face. It was as if everything her father felt ugly, suddenly she could see in its full light.

A strange moan came from inside the grave and without hesitation, Septimus pulled Willa to her feet and behind his body with one hand and then yanked Braxton similarly towards himself with the other.

“Do not touch me!” Braxton shrieked forcibly throwing Septimus from his arm.

“No, I never liked when Septimus touched me either.” A voice said.

Willa knew it immediately from Septimus’ memory of this very graveyard. A female figure floated up from the grave, appearing both opaque as flesh and translucent as a ghost as she shifted indefinitely between states. In flesh form, she clearly was Lila Malfoy.

“Lila?” Byron whispered, wide-eyed. He hugged Bathilda tighter into his chest and moved an arm protectively over Dipsas’ back as she remained on her hands and knees beside the edge of the grave now only murmuring Ardan’s name.

The figure of Lila let out a piercing, hysterical laugh.

“Did you really believe Ardan Gamp would kill himself? No, he lacked the integrity. I had to take possession of him and force it upon him. He was a small man with small ambitions in the end. So weak he forgave Miranda for killing their squib daughter, as if she even could do it unaided.” She turned to Septimus with a frown, “Sorry about that mix up, my love, when I thought you had sired that filth. I suppose, though, you and I never really did see eye to eye on magical purity. Or really anything at all.”

Septimus had his wand out and was murmuring incantations Willa recognized as those he had done in the hidden wing of Malfoy Manor`.

Lila cackled at this and said, “Oh Septimus, we know that is not going to work this time. You are missing a key component, my love.”

He did not stop or pay attention to her.

“Who are you?” Braxton demanded, his wand out threateningly.

“Braxton, stop.” Willa commanded.

“Oh, Wilhelmina, it is only fair he knows who I am. You certainly do after all.” Lila said and gave her a wink. She whipped her head back to Braxton so fast it disconnected from her body. She continued to speak however, as if she did not notice at all, and slowly her two pieces rejoined. “Braxton Bagshot, I am Lila Malfoy, Septimus’ wife and the woman who killed your half-sister when your mother was too weak to finish the job.”

“You killed Bethany?!” Braxton shouted. He threw a hex at her, but it missed.

“Yes, I killed her.” Lila said breezily. “This world has no place for non-magical people. Something your mother claimed to believe when I found her again, after Septimus brought me back. But she was weak, just like Ardan. They both needed to die. Small people who could not even purge their own error; makes you question how pure their blood even was...How pure Wilhelmina’s blood is… I already know you and that baby over there are impure given your father’s filthy lineage.”

“ _Stupefy_!” Braxton cast at her apparition.

The stun hit her, and she somersaulted backwards several times. Septimus released Willa and began using both hands to do the incantations. His efforts were not working though, and the Stunning spell did not keep her down as it would a human. Lila rose back up and sped towards Braxton; she gripped his neck and he let out a painful scream. She lifted him off the ground with ease and pulled his face quite close to her own, her eyes glittered with malice.

“Child, you should not have struck me. I am going to finish the job starting with you.” She whispered to him.

“Release him now, Lila.” Septimus said in a firm, calm tone. It was the only tone she would respond to in life, so he hoped it would work now.

“Or what, my love? You will kill me? Too late for that. To think that Ardan so desperately yearned to see you suffer but lacked true conviction to carry it through. He could not envision how killing the rest of Miranda’s children, then your whore who he called his greatest joy, and then both your children would be the true way to see you suffer. But why stop there? After I kill everyone you love, I will kill everyone they loved. And when I finish with that, when you truly believe you have no reason to continue living, I will take possession of your body and lead the Malfoy name back to glory. Cleansing the world of every ounce of Muggle blood while wearing your face.” She smiled longingly.

Braxton began to scream in agony at the iciness of her touch, burn marks visible on his neck through her translucent hand. He clawed at her failingly, then his screams stopped and his face grew purple as she tightened her grip and cut off his air supply.

“ _Stupefy_!” Septimus cast at Lila.

It hit her and again she tumbled backwards, dropping Braxton in a thud on the ground. Byron abandoned Dipsas to run to his son.

Seconds later Lila was up again, coming towards Septimus at an impossible speed. She did not go for his throat though. She went for his scars, holding him in place while she reached up under his robes to find the bare flesh of his torso. His face contorted with pain.

“How does it feel, Septimus? What is it like to always have part of me inside of you? How does it feel not to be able to intimately touch someone else without inflicting horrible pain on her body? A constant reminder of how much I love you, even in death.” She said.

When the dripping blood from his reopened wounds became visible, Willa summoned Ardan’s wand from the grave site and yelled commandingly, “Enough, Lila!”

Ardan’s wand felt warm in her hand, its ownership having yielded fully to her with his death. The wand was quite familiar with her, after all.

Lila turned to her slowly, her hands still on Septimus’ body as she flashed Willa a challenging grin.

“You talk so much it is no wonder Septimus strangled you to death.” Willa said dryly.

“Stop!” Septimus gritted out, hoping to prevent her from aggravating Lila into an attack. But Willa cast a full body binding curse on him so he could not move. The last thing she needed was for him to heroically overcome the pain of Lila’s torturous touch just to run in front of the spell she planned to cast on Lila after goading her into an attack.

“You said you plan to start with Braxton, but truly you should start with me.” Willa said pragmatically before continuing in a sneering tone, “After all, I am the one Septimus is in love with now. The one he is going to marry. The one who he touches intimately. And, yes, it hurts when he does, but Ardan surrounded me with so much pain, that I do not mind. I rather like it. In fact, I like everything about your husband’s body, so much so that I will not be giving it back. So, you see, Lila, you want to start with me.”

Enraged, Lila threw Septimus’ petrified body aside and began towards Willa exceedingly fast, but Willa was ready for her.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” she cast without hesitation. The curse flowed with ease from her father’s wand and she felt no pain as the rush of death left it in a green flash of light.

When the curse hit Lila’s apparition, she burst into a cloud of black smoke that began to swirl as Lila’s voice said in a broken, hushed tone, “You will be the first I take, Wilhelmina. And I will make it neither quick nor painless.”

The smoke dissipated and the graveyard went silent. Willa released Septimus from the binding curse and hurriedly pulled up his robes to assess the damage. His scars were closed again, shifting colors in their usual imbalanced state, and the bleeding had stopped. She vanished the spilled blood, covered his body again, and pulled him upright into a sitting position.

“Why did you put yourself in her pathway?” Septimus asked.

“She was always coming for me first. She started in August and it only grew worse as we got closer.” Willa said quietly before adding for only him to hear, “Besides, Braxton does not know how to kill someone. I do.”

“I cannot lose you.” Septimus said in a quivering voice.

Willa pulled him into an embrace and whispered, “You will not. We are going to find a way to kill her, and if you are unable to finish the job, I will do it for you.”

“I will be able to finish it.” He said.

Willa pulled back to look him in the eye and say, “You are not a killer, Septimus. There is no shame in that.”

He looked into her a long moment before nodding, then he kissed her softly and said, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Willa said. “Now, I need to go check on my mother.”

“Let us go inside the Bagshots’ house where I can better protect us than out here in the open.” Septimus said.

“Collect the Bagshots. I will get my mother.” Willa said as they both stood.


End file.
